


Wild, Wild Sings The Bird

by lecriteuse



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Arranged Marriage, F/F, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 74,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5013256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecriteuse/pseuds/lecriteuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magical Marriage, set in the Dragon Age: Inquisition world.</p><p>The Nevarran court are trying to force Cassandra into a strategic marriage for their own benefit. The Inquisition's Advisors can only find one solution. Cassandra, unsurprisingly, doesn't like it. Will she come around? The answer... won't surprise you one bit, if you know this trope.</p><p>Featuring a rather tsundere Cassandra, and a mostly willing Josephine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Tagged "mildly dubious consent" because the story features an arranged marriage that both parties agree to, but in which at least one party is (initially) unenthusiastic about consummating the marriage. Both parties will be enthusiastic (if nervous) when the act itself takes place in latter chapters. The early lack of enthusiasm is discussed in the story and I wanted to tag for it in case it is problematic for some readers.
> 
> I do not claim to have invented the "magically sealed marriage" bit, nor do I claim any of its details as original. I can't point to where they came from originally, but I am reasonably sure most of them come from my, er, extensive reading of fanfic and bad fantasy novels.
> 
> There will be dialogue adapted from or copied directly from Dragon Age: Inquisition. I did not write these parts, nor do I own them, or the characters, or the setting (I'm just playing around with them, but I promise to return them all in good condition).
> 
> Finally, I have played rather fast and loose with canon timelines, layouts, and other details. Info mostly gotten from my memories of my own playthroughs, online wikis, and halfhearted paging through the World Of Thedas books. It has only been proofread/edited by myself, so feel free to point out any egregious typo-style errors.

The week had begun pleasantly enough. Cassandra had recently returned to Skyhold with the Inquisitor, Bull, and Vivienne from a successful dragon hunt. After their return, following the inventory of dragon remains and loot, and the filing of reports, an air of low-key celebration had pervaded. This was the Inquisitor’s second dragon hunt, and although it had gone better than the first, she was still inclined to take some time to recover before taking on any more missions. So Inquisitor Lavellan and Iron Bull took up residence in the Herald’s Rest and regaled their friends and well-wishers with tales from the hunt. Vivienne retreated to her rooms with some choice offerings from the Inquisition’s wine cellars to entertain some of their more rarified noble guests. (“She is very welcome to anything she requires that the Inquisition can provide,” Josephine had confided in a rare moment of weariness, “if she takes some of them off my hands for a few hours!”) Cassandra herself was not unwilling to spend a day or two doing simple, easy exercises, perhaps stealing a few hours to read, and putting off for a day the responsibilities of her position. This was, perhaps, uncharacteristic.

Perhaps she had somehow sensed that the respite would be short-lived.

The morning two days after the hunters returned dawned clear. Cassandra rose very early to make her morning devotions in the chantry. Then she saw to her exercise drills, using a heavier sword and shield than she normally carried, pushing her body until her muscles shook with exhaustion. After a quick wash and midday meal, she went to the yard to run some new recruits through their training exercises while Cullen was occupied at the war table — after the day of relative ease, the Inquisitor and the advisors had been sequestered there since dawn. No, she did not miss the war table at all.

Cassandra knew something was badly amiss when one of Josephine’s runners came to fetch her to the war room. Her advice was rarely sought these days — Cassandra was too blunt and obstinate to be a good tactician, and her talents were better used elsewhere. Why would they need her now, and as urgently as the runner seemed to think?

“I don’t, I don’t know, Seeker Cassandra,” the young man stammered. “I only know that Sister Nightingale told me I was to fetch you immediately, she said to run all the way here and back, and she seemed right put out, I… please.” His eyes were wide and more than a little panicky.

Well. Leliana was hardly given to unnecessary displays. Not these days. Unless the runner was exaggerating, there probably _was_ a dire emergency requiring her input.  
Nodding at one of the seasoned recruits to continue leading the drill, she strode across the yard toward the hold, the nervous runner dashing to keep up.

When she arrived in the war room, the atmosphere was tense. Cassandra glanced around the room as the runner beat a hasty retreat and pulled the door shut behind him. The Inquisitor and advisors were standing behind the war table, and Cassandra was surprised to see Vivienne behind them. Meeting her eye, Vivienne offered a small humourless smile. “Hello, my dear,” she said. “So glad you could join us.”

Cassandra turned to the war table. Kaera Lavellan looked unhappy, her brows knitting with worry; Cullen looked shocked; Josephine, pale and drawn; Leliana, composed but (to Cassandra’s eye) ill at ease. Cassandra felt her stomach sink. “What has happened?”

Leliana and Cullen both glanced at Josephine, who hesitated before saying, “I’m afraid there has been… a development.” She couldn’t quite meet Cassandra’s eye. “I know you are not… close… to your family in Nevarra.”

“Ah,” said Cassandra, her voice dripping acid. No wonder the faces around the war table were so gloomy, if this was something involving the Pentaghasts.

Josephine still would not meet her eye. “Some short time ago, my sources brought to me a rumour involving Lord Thomasz Tobias Lucas — ”

“Aldalgar Tibalt Maximilian Pentaghast,” Cassandra finished. “My… third cousin, I believe.”

“I believe so,” Josephine said. “Cassandra. What do you know of Lord Thomasz?”

Cassandra scowled. “All I know is his family have always been loyal to King Markus.” She practically spat the name.

“I see,” replied Josephine, her voice weak.

“I have been investigating this Lord Thomasz,” said Leliana, meeting Cassandra’s eyes. “He had a younger sister who died in childbirth five years ago. His parents were ambitious, though their connection to the throne is… shall we say, quite a bit weaker than yours.” Cassandra sneered, but remained silent at this. Leliana continued, “His mother is in ill health, and his father died over ten years ago — the cause of death was hushed up, but it is whispered that his rivals at court had him quietly and expertly assassinated. However, I have reason to believe Lord Thomasz himself may have played a part.”

“Charming family, you have,” Kaera muttered. Cassandra glared at her, and the Inquisitor gave a small, apologetic smile. “Almost as bad as mine. Sorry, Seeker.”

“Thomasz has exceeded his father’s ambitions — he is a powerful mage, and a Mortalitasi.” Leliana’s eyes dropped to the map in front of her. “He has risen in the Nevarran court, though not as fast as he would like.”

“Spit it out, Leliana,” Cassandra said through gritted teeth, impatient. “Why are we discussing this man?”

Leliana fixed her with a level gaze. Cassandra glared back. “My spies have learned that Lord Thomasz intends to further raise his stature through an advantageous marriage.”

“What has that to do with the Inquisition?” Cassandra asked, dread pooling in her stomach.

“It seems he is planning to marry _you_ , Cassandra,” Kaera said, voice quiet and deadly serious. “Both Josephine and Leliana have confirmed it with several sources.”

Cassandra closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Then I shall refuse him.” Opening her eyes, she looked around the room. “There is nothing compelling me to accept an offer of marriage. Unless you believe he is going to kidnap me and carry me off against my will, I do not see why this is even an issue worth discussing.”

She witnessed a look pass between Josephine and Leliana that did not bode well. Cullen was now also avoiding her glance, and Kaera merely looked at her with something like pity in her eyes. She felt her temper flare, but kept her tongue still. Her temper would likely only draw this — whatever _this_ was — out longer than necessary.

It was Josephine who broke the silence. “Are you familiar with Progenitor Laws?”

“No.”

“These are laws that exist, in some form, in most established human societies in Thedas. They are rarely invoked because they tend to cause more difficulties than they solve. The details differ from place to place, but generally they are in place to keep noble bloodlines from dying out, and facilitate propitious marriages.” Josephine still was not meeting Cassandra’s eye. “In this case, Lord Thomasz has petitioned the Nevarran court to marry you under Progenitor Law. Such a union would solidify that branch of the Pentaghast family, and any heirs would have an increased likelihood of being powerful enough mages to become Mortalitasi themselves.”

 _“Heirs?”_ shouted Cassandra, unable to keep silent. Josephine flinched. “What in the Maker’s name are you talking about?”

“Calm yourself, Cassandra,” said Leliana, stepping next to Josephine. “That is one of the purposes of Progenitor Laws — the production of suitable progeny. Surely the name gave you a hint?”

Cassandra tried to calm her breathing. Through gritted teeth she said “There is no question of my producing _progeny_. There is no question of my going through with such a marriage!”

“Lord Thomasz would argue that you have no choice,” Cullen said. “Josephine has said it seems likely the Nevarran court — we assume with your uncle’s support — will approve his request and support the match under Progenitor Law. They get more potential Pentaghast Mortalitasi, and they draw one of the Inquisition’s most powerful members — the former Right Hand of the Divine, no less — into the Nevarran court.”

“Over my dead body,” Cassandra ground out.

“Let us hope it does not come to that,” Leliana murmured.

“It might,” said Cullen. He held up his hands. “Not that we intend to let that happen! But it seems possible that Lord Thomasz might press his case using military forces. Josephine’s sources have reported that Lord Thomas has enough support for this match that there is a real possibility he would march against the Inquisition with an army of necromancers at his back.” He shook his head. “I’ve no doubt we could repel them. But not without losses.”

“And not without causing major diplomatic upheaval,” Leliana said. “Isn’t that right, Josie?”

“A diplomatic rift of that magnitude would be unfortunate,” Josephine said carefully.

“Then what do you suggest?” Cassandra asked. She had begun pacing back and forth in front of the war table. “That I accede to this demand, when it comes? That I leave the Inquisition, return to Nevarra, and begin….” Her lip curled in disgust. “…producing progeny?” She stopped before the three advisors, glaring. “Are you all quite mad? Or have I merely done something to anger you all to the point where you would —” She stopped abruptly and resumed pacing.

“Cassandra, no one is going to allow this Thomasz person to force you, or any member of the Inquisition, into a marriage,” Kaera said firmly. “Not with all the necromancers in Thedas.”

Cassandra stopped her pacing. She glanced at Cullen. “So, we will fight? If it comes to that?”

Cullen looked extremely uncomfortable. “If we must,” he said. “But I do not advise that being the first resort.”

“Then what?” She glanced to Leliana and Josephine. “We use spycraft or diplomacy to weaken his position in the Nevarran court until this… _proposal_ is no longer supported by the Mortalitasi?”

Leliana smiled weakly. “I certainly _wish_ my network of spies in Nevarra was that robust.” She glanced at Josephine. “And I’m afraid our diplomatic ties with Nevarra are shaky at best. Which is likely why they appear to be poised to jump at the chance to weaken the Inquisition.”

“Then what?” Cassandra asked desperately. “What are we going to do about this?”

The Inquisitor and advisors turned, as one, to glance behind them. Following their gaze, Cassandra caught Vivienne’s eye with a start. She had forgotten the mage was even in the room. She had not spoken or moved during the discussion.

Now Vivienne gave one of her enigmatic smiles and came forward to join the others at the war table. Cassandra felt uncomfortably as though she were on trial, alone on the other side.

Vivienne was speaking, a note of laughter in her voice. “Why my dear, there is an obvious solution.” She looked at Cassandra. “You will be married!”

Cassandra shook her head. “I would never marry a Mortalitasi —” she began.

“No, certainly not,” Vivienne interrupted. “My dear Cassandra, I would not stand idly by while you were forced to marry some vile necromancer. But there is a solution that would foil Lord Thomasz’s plans. After all, he cannot propose marriage to you if you are already married.”

“If I am…” Cassandra stared in confusion at Vivienne.

“We have been discussing this since before dawn, Cassandra,” Kaera said softly, “when Leliana received ravens confirming the support of the Nevarran court. We have known for a fortnight that this was a possibility…”

“You knew and yet told me nothing?” Cassandra shouted.

Kaera merely glanced at her before continuing. “We wished to be sure. We did not want to alarm you unnecessarily while we were hunting the dragon. I am sorry; I thought it best that you not know until we were very sure.”

“Josephine and I have exhausted every avenue of the law,” Leliana said. “There is no way we could legally refuse to comply with Progenitor Laws. It would irreparably harm our standing with other states. And if we do not wish open warfare at the cost of many lives and even more diplomatic ties…”

“As I said, it is simple,” Vivienne said. She was the only one in the room who was even remotely cheerful, Cassandra noted with some alarm. “You must be married! Legitimately married, and quickly, too, so that Lord Thomasz will not even have the opportunity to press his suit.” Cassandra stared at Vivienne, agape. Surely, surely she could not be serious. But Vivienne was not finished: “And furthermore, you must be married to someone with enough standing to deter the Nevarran court. A funny thing about Progenitor Laws — they can be used to dissolve an existing marriage if it is seen to be a weak match in terms of strengthening noble bloodlines.”

Cassandra could not bring herself to speak. This was absurd, utterly absurd. Perhaps she was dreaming?

“Cassandra, I wish there was some other way.” Kaera looked genuinely despondent. “As I said, we have known this was a possibility for a while, and I have thrown every Inquisition resource that could be spared into finding a solution. Believe me, this is the only way.” The Inquisitor’s voice took on a pleading note. “I do not want war between the Inquisition and Nevarra — it would cripple us. I would not ask this of you if there was any other way. And we are running out of time.”

Cassandra took a deep breath. This all felt unreal. “You say I must marry,” she said carefully. “I must marry soon. And I must marry someone of high enough rank to deter a challenge from Thomasz on legal grounds.” She glanced at the Inquisitor. “How do you propose to bring this about? Do you keep a stable of eligible noblemen for occasions such as these? Am I to pick one as easily as picking a horse to go on a mission?”

“We have been in discussion since before dawn,” Kaera said, looking at Cassandra, begging her with her eyes to understand. “We have known that, if this came about, finding a fast and appropriate marriage match for you would become necessary. A match with someone we can trust, and with someone that you… might not find too objectionable. We have discussed it at length. Cassandra, there is only one possibility we can think of.” Kaera’s large blue eyes bore into Cassandra’s, her brows knit together in worry.

Cassandra’s stomach twisted and she stared at Kaera in shock. “Inquisitor…you…” Surely she could not mean herself? Kaera had been very flirtatious with Cassandra, after they had escaped the initial danger after the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, until Cassandra had put a stop to it. Was this all a ploy to…?

Kaera closed her eyes and shook her head. Her mouth twisted into a grimace that was only partly a smile. “No. Of course not. A Dalish hunter from a backwater Clan? Inquisitor or no, Lord Thomasz would have such a match dissolved under Progenitor Law so fast it would make your head spin.”

Cassandra took a breath. “Then who…?”

No one moved. It seemed no one even breathed for an interminable moment. Yet, somehow, Cassandra felt the energy in the room bend. Cassandra, who was not ever good at reading people, who was seldom able to pick up the subtle signs and unspoken things that passed between other people… Cassandra suddenly knew.

Cassandra remained frozen in place for another eternal second, then slowly, as though she were made of stone, she turned her head to gaze at Josephine Montilyet. Who finally met her eye. Who was gazing back at Cassandra, her eyes wide and brave, her jaw set. Josephine took a single quick breath.

“I know I am not the partner you would choose for yourself, for any number of reasons,” she began, her voice carefully steady and even. “But it seems we have no choice. My rank among Antivan nobility is certainly below your own in Nevarra,” she continued with a small rueful smile, “but it is more than sufficient to satisfy Progenitor Law, especially when stacked with my rank in the Inquisition. Not even Navarra would stand against Antiva _and_ the Inquisition, not with all the allies we would have together. As for my being a woman,” she went on, “it is not unheard of in Antiva for two women to be married. Or two men, for that matter. Adoption or fostering of children will satisfy Progenitor Law on that front, since such children are considered full heirs according to Antivan law. I am aware,” and here her voice faltered ever so slightly, the strong set of her jaw wavered almost imperceptibly, “I am aware that you are not generally inclined toward women.” Josephine blinked and took a breath. “As I said, I know I am not what you would have chosen for yourself. But I am the only eligible member of the Inquisition, the only one we can trust, whose rank is appropriate. Given the circumstances, this is the only way.”

Cassandra stared. She felt again as though this situation was unreal, that she might be dreaming. She took a deep breath to dispel that feeling. Everyone in the room was watching her and waiting for her reaction.

“Very well,” she said, her voice creaking. “Very well. I see no reason to argue.” She looked at Josephine, whose relief was evident though she was trying to hide it. “You know rank among nobility does not matter to me. And we need only maintain the match until we find a more suitable solution. If you are willing, Lady Josephine, I have no objections to a marriage on paper.”

Josephine’s relief fell from her face as Cassandra spoke. “Oh dear,” she said, her voice hollow.

“I’m afraid it would not simply be a ‘marriage on paper,’ Cassandra,” Leliana said.

“What do you mean?” Cassandra asked, confused.

“It is unlikely that Lord Thomasz or the Mortalitasi would back down if your marriage was a mere formality,” Kaera explained. “They would demand more concrete confirmation and legitimacy than a paper contract.”

“This is where I come in,” Vivienne said serenely. Cassandra glared at her. She liked the mage well enough, but she was approaching this situation with far too much good cheer. “I am capable of sealing a marriage with spirit magic. It would be indisputable.”

“Sealing?” Cassandra asked.

“Yes, my dear. It’s not something you see much these days — not terribly fashionable. But it will absolutely confirm the marriage, to Lord Thomasz and any others who might challenge it.”

Cassandra sighed. Of course this would be much more complicated than a mere contract. And magic! She did not like where this seemed to be going. “I see. What does this ‘sealing’ entail?”

“I would need to create the marriage contract myself. I’m afraid it would require a small amount of blood from you both — no, this is not blood magic!” Vivienne said in reply to Cassandra’s outraged squawk. “The very idea! No, the blood does not power the spell, it is merely used to bind the spirit magic to the contract, physically.”

“I see,” Cassandra said. “Well. I think I can manage that much.”

Vivienne looked at her, and Cassandra drew a sharp breath. The mage’s face was suffused with pity. Oh, Maker, this did not bode well. “Cassandra, the purpose of a sealed marriage is to ensure that both parties remain faithful and… loving. It means that the marriage must be consummated.”

Cassandra felt her face contort. “What do you mean, ‘must be consummated?’”

Cullen began, “‘Consummated’ means —”

“I know what the word means, idiot,” Cassandra snapped. She turned to Vivienne. “What, then?” she asked. “Do you need a signed affidavit from us, claiming the marriage was consummated?”

“Not exactly,” Vivienne murmured.

“What — witnesses?” She glanced around the room. No one else would meet her eye. “Surely you here in this room would be wiling to perjure yourselves for this, if Josephine and I are to —”

“Cassandra, this is _magic_ ,” Vivienne interrupted. “The contract is bound by spirit magic to adhere to principles of love and faithfulness, and to the two of you by your blood. It cannot be misled by affidavits or witness testimony. When I say the marriage must be consummated for the contract to be binding, I mean: you must, in actual fact, consummate the marriage. Otherwise the contract’s ink will turn to rust, and the sealing will be void.”

Cassandra glanced wildly around the room. Still, everyone avoided her eye. She looked back to Vivienne. “To be very clear,” she said slowly, “by ‘consummate,’ you mean…”

“Sexual release,” Vivienne said smoothly. “Achieved by at least one party, at the other’s hand. Or… at the other’s body, one way or another. The details, at least, aren’t stipulated.”

“Maker preserve me,” Cassandra groaned, and covered her face with both hands. She could feel the blood pounding hot in her face.

“And I’m afraid the sealing requires regular consummation in order to remain valid.” Cassandra did not raise her head at Vivienne’s words. “The contract is typically displayed in a public place in the couple’s estate — certainly, we would need to produce the contract should Lord Thomasz or his people demand it. The contract serves as a visual proof of the seal. Once the spell is set initially, the ink turns golden. If the couple does not consummate the marriage by sunrise the next day, the ink darkens and the seal is annulled. Otherwise, the ink remains golden and the seal is bound. However, if after being sealed, a couple, shall we say, ceases to be intimate, ceases to please one another, the ink gradually turns silver, then eventually darkens until it turns rust-coloured. Such marriages are considered no longer sealed. Now, at the start of the marriage, the seal requires rather frequent intimacy. Once every few days, at least. After a few months, the seal becomes less demanding. I know of couples who have been sealed for decades who only need come together once or twice a year if they so desire. You should be warned that dissolving the match, breaking the seal, might well attract Lord Thomasz’s attention, and he might choose to bring a fresh challenge under Progenitor Law. As such, we cannot be sure how long the seal must be maintained. Oh, and you must know — with any sexual infidelity, from either party, the contract disintegrates immediately. One can see why such a contract has gone out of fashion!”

As Vivienne finished speaking, Cassandra could hear her moving to the side of the room. She did not raise her head or remove her hands. She could barely think straight for the pounding of her blood.

She heard liquid being poured into a cup from the side table, then Vivienne approached her. “Here, darling, you should drink something before you pass out.”

Cassandra gingerly removed one hand from her face. Vivienne was proffering a cup of watered wine from the sideboard. Cassandra would normally not partake this early in the day, but this was clearly an extreme situation. She lifted her head and nodded in thanks before taking the cup and drinking deeply.

She risked a glance across the war table. Cullen was carefully studying the floor at his feet. Kaera and Leliana stood on either side of Josephine. Leliana had her hand on Josephine’s shoulder. And Josephine….

Josephine, once again, would not meet Cassandra’s eye. She was leaning forward with both hands on the edge of the war table. The only visible sign of tension was her rigidly spread fingers. She was staring into the middle distance, her face composed and expressionless. Cassandra was struck by how young she looked. It was easy to forget how young she was because of her ruthless efficiency, her brilliant diplomatic skills. She had to be younger than thirty.

Cassandra swallowed another mouthful of wine, then, impulsively, drained the cup. She took a deep breath.

“So you are saying to me,” she began, slowly and carefully, “that Josephine and I must… must be married. That we must be married very soon. And that this marriage will be overseen by a magic contract that will force us to… to _consummate_ this marriage regularly. And, and that the frequency of this consummation will be reflected for all to see on this magic contract!” Cassandra’s could feel her face twisting into an ugly snarl.

“Cassandra!” Leliana’s voice had a warning edge to it.

“This is absurd!” Cassandra shouted.

“It is the only way,” Kaera said, her voice stern and her expression stubborn. “Cassandra, we investigated every option. It is this or war —”

“No war, not with Nevarra, not over this,” said Cullen, his voice a dangerous low roil. “I won’t lose men over one person’s —”

“Damn you!” Cassandra roared, throwing her empty cup at Cullen’s head. He ducked, and it hit the far wall, breaking into several pieces. “One person, yes, one person being forced to — to —”

_”ENOUGH!”_

Josephine’s shout shocked everyone into silence and stillness. Cassandra stared. She had never heard the Ambassador so much as raise her voice above a conversational volume.

“Enough!” Josephine went on. “No. No, it is evident that this proposed solution will not work.” She looked at Cassandra, her face determined, eyes wide and over-bright. “I will not force my friend — someone I admire and… and like — I will not force her into a situation that, for her, is little better than the situation we are trying to prevent.”

“Josie…” Leliana began.

“No! Absolutely not. We must find another way.”

“We have discussed this for days now! There is no other way,” Cullen said.

“Surely you don’t suggest we go to war over this, Josephine?” asked Kaera.

“NO! I…” Josephine turned a stricken face to the Inquisitor. “Inquisitor, you saw the look on Seeker Cassandra’s face just now. When she contemplated… intimacy… with me.” Josephine stole a watery look at Cassandra. Whatever she saw on Cassandra’s face, it turned Josephine’s expression to one of steely resolve. She turned back to the Inquisitor. “You cannot possibly ask me to put my friend through that. She refuses, and I refuse.”

Josephine stalked past the war table toward the door. Before walking through it, she cast one last glance at Cassandra. Then she turned to Vivienne and the other advisors, one by one, emphasizing her words. “We will. Find. Another. Way.” With that, she opened the door, stepped through it in a swirl of gold and blue cloth, and pulled it shut with surprising force.

There was one beat during which Cassandra silently prayed, with as much sincerity as she had every prayed for anything, that the previous scene had been a dream — even a hallucination brought on by a demon might be preferable to facing this.

Then Leliana spoke, her voice low and terrifying, meeting Cassandra’s eyes with a piercing look. “I am going to find Josephine,” she said carefully. “I strongly suggest that you reconsider this offer, very carefully, Cassandra. Because the next time you speak to her, you are going to be extremely contrite and kind to her, regardless of your thoughts on the issue of a sealed marriage.” With that, Leliana was through the door. 

Cassandra swallowed thickly. She felt as though she had fallen down a high cliff and been tumbled by every outcropping on the way down. Her head spun, though it was hard to say whether that was from the shock of the discussion or from the wine. 

She knew that Leliana considered Josephine a close friend, was even rather endearingly protective of the younger woman. This made it surprising that Leliana would have supported a plan to join her with Cassandra. At any rate, Cassandra knew better than to seriously cross Leliana, in this or any other matter. Cassandra thought she need not fear an Inquisition assassin’s knife in the dark (…probably), but Leliana had other ways of making her life miserable. She would most certainly have to be more civil when she next saw Josephine.

For that matter, she would be more civil to Josephine for Josephine’s own sake. Cassandra liked the Ambassador. She had a great deal of respect for Josephine’s tact, diplomacy, intelligence, and easy manners — all things Cassandra admired, and knew to be deficient in herself. She also enjoyed Josephine’s company when they had cause to meet informally during a communal meal, or before or after a meeting with the Ambassador. Josephine seemed to know that a bribe was likely to coax Cassandra into actually meeting with her when she needed to get what she called an “insider’s perspective” on Chantry matters or (more rarely) on Nevarran politics, and usually had a plate of sweets and fresh tea on hand to entice Cassandra to keep her appointments. More often than not, Cassandra would linger at the Ambassador’s table after providing whatever information was requested, nursing a cup of tea and smiling at Josephine’s entertaining observations about life at Skyhold, or talking about her own experiences on the road. The woman was charming and lively and had always been kind to Cassandra, and she deserved civility and kindness in return.

Not that Cassandra had any intention to consider this preposterous plan. A magically sealed marriage! To a woman, a woman easily fifteen years her junior! A marriage with… _sexual_ requirements that would be magically enforced and publicly displayed. The very idea made Cassandra’s stomach flip.

But… as upset as Cassandra was about this, Josephine had to be at least equally upset. Although an alliance through marriage to a Pentaghast would certainly be highly desirable to an Antivan trading family, Josephine could hardly be under any illusions about Cassandra’s suitability as a life partner. And she had looked truly upset… Well. Admittedly, Cassandra had allowed her temper to get the better of her, likely to no one’s great surprise. Although Josephine could certainly handle herself against an angry tirade, this was a decidedly more personal matter than most issues the Ambassador would usually have to deal with. Possibly she thought Cassandra objected to Josephine personally, or to her family or rank, which was far from true! Cassandra could not have cared less about rank. And although Josephine was a woman, which made the entire affair non-tenable to begin with, Cassandra could certainly see why Josephine would be an eligible match. She was intelligent, kind, competent, hard-working, and undeniably beautiful and charming. One could hardly ask for a better partner, on paper.

And that was the problem, of course. Cassandra could not truly object to such a match on regular paper. On magical paper that both demanded intimacy, and displayed evidence of that intimacy? Cassandra heard herself huffing disgustedly.

On the other side of the room, the Inquisitor was speaking very quietly with Cullen and with Vivienne, who had walked around the table to join them. At Cassandra’s noise, they glanced up at her.

Vivienne linked her arm in Cullen’s. “Come, my dear,” she said. “Let us see if the Inquisitor can talk any sense into our Seeker.” They left the room, with Cullen fixing Cassandra with a level gaze as he passed, and pulled the door softly shut.

Cassandra turned back to the Inquisitor, tension humming between her shoulder blades as she anticipated another unpleasant discussion.

Kaera Lavellan was another woman Cassandra admired. They had, admittedly, not met in ideal circumstances. In the chaos following the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the death of Divine Justinia, and the opening of the Breach in the sky with demons pouring out of it… Cassandra should have handled it better, should have kept her head, but the situation had not been easy for anyone. Still, Kaera had handled herself well. Better, probably than Cassandra had, if she was being honest. She had been calm, despite the pain the mark caused her and despite Cassandra’s rough handling of her, finding herself a bow and quiver to protect both herself and Cassandra as they fought their way to that first Fade rift.

Cassandra had grown to admire her steady temperament and sensible leadership. She had accepted the mantle of Herald of Andraste, and then the burden of the title of Inquisitor, and her decisions had always been made with conviction, which Cassandra admired even when she did not agree with her.

Cassandra sensed that she was about to very seriously disagree with the Inquisitor. She did not relish the thought of discussing this matter with Kaera, or with anyone. She wished, rather, that this entire situation would simply go away — wishful thinking indeed, given that they were dealing with an ambitious lesser Pentaghast and the Mortalitasi. Discussing this proposed marriage with Kaera was especially mortifying, given that Cassandra had not entirely forgotten about Kaera’s past advances. However, Cassandra knew that if she could convince the Inquisitor that this plan was not feasible, there was a much better chance she could convince the others.

“Inquisitor,” she began, tentatively.

Kaera stopped her with a raised hand. “Before we begin, I think I need a drink.” She walked to the sideboard and poured herself some watered wine from the flagon. “Would you like another?”

“Thank you, but no. I do not think I should have any more.”

“Water, then?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Kaera poured some water from a different flagon, then carried the cups to a small table and chairs near the windows at the back of the room. “Please, join me.” It was not entirely a request. Cassandra walked over and sat across from the Inquisitor.

The Inquisitor took a measured swallow from her cup, then looked at Cassandra. Cassandra met her eyes, but it was not comfortable. She had no idea what to say.

Fortunately, Kaera seemed to have enough to say to get them started. “Cassandra, I know this is not a good situation. We all know that. What Lord Thomasz is planning is vile — forcing another to marry him in order to amass power to himself and his allies, in order to produce a Mortalitasi heir.” The Inquisitor shook her head in disgust and took another pull of her wine. “I wish we had a better spy network in Nevarra, or even in Tevinter or the Free Marches, to take him down quietly. But we do not; even if we did, he is currently quite well-protected due to his place at court, and his potential to disrupt the Inquisition.” 

She sipped again. “I wish we had bigger and better-appointed military forces, or that we could pull our troops away from everywhere else they are stationed, to attack Thomasz, or to meet whatever army he would bring to the Inquisition’s doorstep. But we do not. War with Nevarra, with Thomasz or with the Mortalitasi, would be disastrous on a military and diplomatic level. The Inquisition would be mightily reduced in power, if not destroyed entirely. Everything we hope to do could be lost.” 

Tapping a finger on the table, Kaera looked out the window. “We considered every possible option. Josephine’s assistants scoured our library and every library we have access to, researching Progenitor Laws. Such laws are still taken seriously enough in enough places that we cannot hope to flout them, not without causing more diplomatic upheaval for the Inquisition. Arranging an appropriate marriage for you seemed the best way, especially when we thought that a marriage on paper would be all that was required.” Kaera’s features twisted into a wry grin. “We even thought, briefly, that I would be…” She glanced at Cassandra, and whatever she saw on Cassandra’s face made her lift her hands in appeal. “I apologize. This was never a serious consideration, Cassandra, and I assure you I have no further designs on you. We simply thought that my rank as Inquisitor would be enough, if it was to be a match on paper, and it was known that I would be willing to… But it all came to nothing, as further research revealed that my Inquisition rank would be insufficient for Progenitor Law, and… well.” 

Kaera cleared her throat. “We considered a number of nobility who are sympathetic to the Inquisition, but frankly, none of them are trustworthy enough not to exploit such a connection. And we thought you would be less likely to be wiling to enter into a sealed marriage with a stranger at any rate. So we looked at the inner members of the Inquisition. We considered Dorian —” Cassandra gave a snort. Kaera glanced at her and smiled briefly. “Yes, precisely. The House Pavus would certainly more than meet Progenitor Laws. But it seems obvious that Dorian would harbour as many objections to a sealed marriage as you do.” 

The Inquisitor fixed Cassandra with a level gaze. “Although, if you would be wiling to consider… if it is a match with a woman that is objectionable to you, it’s possible Dorian could be convinced —” 

“No!” Cassandra said with force. “No. It is not that. It is… not entirely that.” Cassandra sighed and took a swallow of water. She felt parched. “I do not object to Josephine; far from it. And I… I have never been attracted to women. But it is also the case that I am not attracted to the vast majority of men I have met.” Something in her voice must have struck the Inquisitor as amusing; she laughed, quietly but (it seemed) sincerely. Encouraged, Cassandra went on.

“If I had to be legally bound to someone, to protect my own life, or to protect the Inquisition, I would do so. I have never thought that I would marry, so it is of little consequence to me if I am married in a way that serves my duty. Such matches, for politics or inheritance, are common enough in the world.” Cassandra shrugged. “It is not very romantic. But there is little room for romance in the world as it is now.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Kaera said wistfully.

After another sip of water, Cassandra said “But this sealing. This forced consummation. That is what I object to, truly. That my… most intimate relations would be on display for all to see, on some magical contract in the Throne Room…” Cassandra felt her face burning. The very idea was insupportable.

Kaera blinked. “Well… it need not be in the Throne Room.” She looked thoughtful. “Of course you would value your privacy. Cassandra, my understanding is that it was a fashionable custom to display the contract. A way of bragging, I suppose. There is no reason it can’t be kept somewhere more secure, to be brought out only if the match is challenged.” She looked at Cassandra, her expression serious. “Seeker, Josephine and Leliana have worked at this problem for many days. Cullen says we cannot meet the kind of military force Thomasz is likely to raise if he decides to press his suit, and I believe him. I will not force you, or Josephine, into this if you truly cannot bring yourself to…” Kaera drained her cup. “But I do not know how else to solve this.”

“I could leave,” Cassandra said, quietly. “I could leave the Inquisition. Thomasz would never find me.”

“Cassandra, no,” Kaera said firmly. “No, the Inquisition needs you. We need your insight into the Chantry and your experience as the Right Hand of the Divine. If it comes down to it, we need every good fighter we can get, and you’re one of our best. If you left, it would have almost the same effect as if Lord Thomasz swooped in and took you back to Nevarra against your will. Besides, where would you go?”

Cassandra’s breath caught.

“Oh, no, Cassandra, I am so sorry, that was unkind.” Kaera reached across the table and touched one of Cassandra’s hands where it gripped her cup. “I didn’t mean… It’s just that with the Seekers still missing, and the Divine — your home is here,” Kaera said firmly, sitting back in her chair. “Lord Thomasz will not drive you from it, not when you are needed and wanted here.”

“Thank you,” Cassandra said quietly. “But it may be our only option, in the end. I can live off the land indefinitely. Perhaps I could investigate the missing Seekers myself. I could travel with Inquisition scouts from time to time, to get provisions… I am not helpless.”

“Certainly not,” said Kaera. “But it would be a very lonely life. And it doesn’t change the fact that I want you here, as a full member of the Inquisition, free to travel on your own terms but at home in Skyhold.” She looked at Cassandra appraisingly. “Really, Cassandra, is a marriage to Josephine so very bad? At the very least, I thought you liked her.”

“Of course I like Josephine!” Cassandra sighed. “She is a perfectly admirable young woman, and I cannot imagine a better Ambassador. I… do enjoy her company. That does not mean I wish to — ugh.”

“You have seen that Josephine is willing to enter into the proposed sealed marriage,” Kaera said gently. “You yourself are willing to enter into a contract without a seal. And it is the seal, and what it implies, that you object to?”

“Obviously!” Cassandra said hotly. Had she not already made that clear?

“Cassandra — is it truly the act itself that repulses you?” Cassandra opened her mouth to answer, but Kaera held up a hand to stop her. “Is it the act itself? Or is that something you could stomach, something you could… sacrifice, for the Inquisition, for your duty? As long as the contract itself was kept strictly private?”

Cassandra’s first instinct was to protest. The idea of an intimate act with Josephine was… well, not repulsive, no. Unsettling, yes. But — and this was a new thought — was it truly worse than what she was otherwise willing to do, to sacrifice, for her duty to the Inquisition? Facing demons, staring into Fade rifts, reaching out with her mind to set aflame the lyrium in her enemies’ blood; these things were also unsettling, usually unpleasant, and often very dangerous. Yet she did them without question. 

Sharing a bed and being physically intimate with someone she was not attracted to (not that Josephine was unattractive; quite the opposite, she was a remarkably beautiful woman, Cassandra was not so blind as to deny this) was discomfiting, but not exactly… distressing. Cassandra was well aware that sex was forced upon unwilling participants the world over, violently or otherwise, and it was a crime she despised with every fibre of her being. But this was not the same, Cassandra thought. 

Cassandra knew that women had sexual relations with other women. And that men had sexual relations with other men, and that every other combination imaginable had likely been performed, with great relish, by someone at some point. Between her reading and her frequent association with soldiers of various stripes, she was no innocent. And although her close relationship with Regalyan was many years past, and she had never had the opportunity or inclination to pursue another liaison, she knew what it meant to be intimate with another person.

If she and Josephine were both willing, but… unenthusiastic… it would be awkward and most likely unpleasant. But then, so was helping to clean the stables, or digging a privy trench at camp. Cassandra was not so cynical as to believe that an unpleasant chore was really comparable to unenthusiastic coupling, yet she found that her emotional reaction to it was more or less the same. 

An unappealing but not distressing task. Something she must accomplish for the sake of duty. Something in which she must set aside her emotional reaction, and perform what was necessary.

Well. No doubt there were married couples everywhere who held similar views on lovemaking with their spouses.

While Cassandra reflected on this, Kaera had retrieved the flagon of wine from the sideboard and returned to the table. She poured herself another cup of wine, and topped up Cassandra’s cup. Cassandra drank, grateful both for the wine and for the fact that is was significantly diluted. Much as she wanted to take the edge off her anxiety, the last thing she needed today was a wine-fogged mind.

“I suppose,” Cassandra said tentatively, “that I could perform this duty, yes.”

“I will do everything I can to make sure your dignity, your privacy, and your integrity are protected,” Kaera said. “Yours, and Josephine’s. I —” Kaera’s voice caught, and she glanced away. She took a sip of wine and seemed to recover, looking Cassandra in the eye. “Thank you, Seeker Cassandra. I am very aware that this is not something you are undertaking lightly. I will make sure that you have the Inquisition’s full support as you proceed.” She smiled, her mouth as crooked as it always was when she smiled. “And, I suppose, congratulations on your engagement?” 

Cassandra’s head shot up. It was one thing to agree to this arrangement. To hear it referred to as an _engagement_ was — well, Cassandra supposed it was not inaccurate. Perhaps she had best get used to the situation. Kaera was looking at her, her cup raised in a salute. Her eyes were very kind, and very sad, though she smiled. If there was a jest there, it was not at Cassandra’s expense.

Cassandra raised her cup in return. “Thank you.” They both drank.

After some small time had passed in which they both stared out the window in a silence that was not uncomfortable, Kaera murmured, “In the Clan, we would say that you and Josephine are _Dar’In-Sulahn’nehn_.”

Cassandra turned her face to the Inquisitor. She knew no Elvish words at all, though she could guess at a few of the ones that had been hurled her way when she had had less-than-friendly encounters with Dalish Clans.

Kaera said softly, “It is difficult to translate, but it means something like ‘dwelling with great joy’.”

Cassandra frowned into her cup. “Under the circumstances, I do not think we will be doing that, precisely.”

Kaera was still smiling in that sad, kind way. “Perhaps, someday, you will,” was all she said.


	2. An Awkward Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cassandra.
> 
> Poor Josephine.
> 
> Today is not going well for either of them.

The Inquisitor had suggested that Cassandra seek out Josephine herself. “I think it would be best if you tell her in person that you are willing to go forward with the sealed marriage,” Kaera had said. “I believe she may have left with the impression that you were… unfavourably inclined toward her. You should remedy that as soon as possible.”

That was likely understating the matter, Cassandra thought when she reflected on her behaviour during the meeting. However, that was all the more reason to speak to Josephine herself, while the Inquisitor would inform Leliana and Cullen, and have Vivienne start work on the spell that would be needed. She would apologize — it was not the first time she had found it necessary to apologize to the Ambassador for one of her outbursts, and Josephine had always taken these in stride — and explain that she was content to approach this match as she would any other unappealing duty. 

She had little doubt that Josephine felt precisely the same way, so they would understand one another. Yes, this would allow them all to move past this as quickly as possible and focus on matters of import to the Inquisition, and she could go back to pretending that the name “Pentaghast” did not exist.

Josephine was not in her office, and her assistants had not seen her. This was not unusual — the Ambassador often had to attend to noble visitors or meet with merchants and other Inquisition workers.

Josephine was also not in the throne room, nor in any of the rooms set aside to receive visiting dignitaries. She was not in the yard meeting with merchants. No one had seen her that day.

Cassandra decided to try Josephine’s quarters next. Under normal circumstances, this was not something she would ever do. Cassandra valued her privacy greatly, and she would not have welcomed anyone seeking her out in her own quarters for unimportant reasons.

But Cassandra was increasingly concerned. No one had seen Josephine. And she had left their meeting under perhaps unideal circumstances. Certainly she had left thinking that Cassandra was refusing the proposed solution of a sealed marriage. It would be unfortunate if she was wasting her time trying to find other solutions, and worse than unfortunate if she attempted to put a solution into action that would undermine the Inquisition in any way.

Outside of Josephine’s door, in a quiet hallway in one of Skyhold’s turrets, Cassandra paused outside to listen. It would not do to interrupt Josephine if she was entertaining a guest. Cassandra herself had met with Josephine in her quarters to discuss matters of diplomatic import to the Inquisition and then share tea and idle chatter. She had a small suite, including a modest sitting room that was ideally suited for such meetings. But Cassandra heard no conversation or clatter of porcelain teacups on saucers, so she raised her hand to knock.

Then she heard an odd sound from behind the door. As though something was rustling or shuffling around with an uneven rhythm. Was someone sneaking around inside the Ambassador’s quarters?

Resisting the brief impulse to draw her sword and kick down the door, she instead settled for knocking briskly and saying “Lady Josephine? May I come in?”

The noise stopped immediately. Suspicious now and unwilling to leave, Cassandra knocked again. “Lady Montilyet? Who is in there?” She reached for the doorknob, her other hand on the hilt of her sword. Too, too recently, an assassin from the House of Repose had made his way into Josephine’s office. Although they had somehow taken care of that situation, between Josephine and Leliana and the Inquisitor, the thought that another assassin might be in the Ambassador’s quarters made Cassandra’s blood run cold.

The door was latched but unlocked. Cassandra pushed it open with perhaps more force that necessary. Josephine looked up in alarm from the divan in the corner of the room. Cassandra glanced around quickly. Seeing no one, she looked back to Josephine, who had not spoken. Her legs were tucked under a large shawl, and she clutched a handkerchief. She looked quite pale and a little discomposed, but unharmed. Cassandra relaxed.

“Forgive me, Lady Montilyet. I heard sounds, and I though perhaps the House of Repose —”

“Oh! No. Not at all. I was merely — I was feeling a little unwell, and thought some tea and a short lie-down might refresh me.”

Cassandra glanced at the settee in front of the small fireplace. The fire had gone mostly out and the room was chilly. A teapot and a full cup of tea sat on the table in front of the settee.

“And so, if you’ll excuse me…” Josephine had risen to her feet and tucked the shawl about her shoulders. Where the handkerchief went, Cassandra did not see.

“Wait, Josephine, please. I have to tell you something,” Cassandra said, the words awkward and stilted. She had not given much thought as to how to tell Josephine about her change of mind. There was no point in trying to find better words, though. Cassandra was all but certain to make a mess of it regardless. Best to simply say it. “I have changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind?” Josephine stared at her, her face blank.

“About this sealed marriage business.” 

At that, Josephine relaxed fractionally. “You… have?”

“Yes.” Cassandra frowned. “But, you are not feeling well.” She gestured to the settee and pushed the door shut. “Sit, please, and I will build the fire, and tell you.”

Josephine arranged herself on the settee while Cassandra stirred the dim embers to life in the fireplace and added more coal. She sat next to Josephine, feeling awkward. Josephine looked much improved just in the last few minutes, with colour returning to her cheeks and a small smile on her lips. Obviously the warmth of the new fire had done her good.

Josephine looked expectantly at Cassandra. “You really changed your mind?”

“Indeed. I spoke with the Inquisitor after you and the others left. She assured me that the marriage contract would be kept private.”

“Ah.” Josephine nodded. “Yes. There would be no need to display such a thing publicly in our case. I imagine this was a relief to you?”

“Yes.” Cassandra was, in fact, very relieved. This conversation was going more easily than she had feared. Likely it was Josephine who made it so; she was always a very pleasant conversation partner, and never pressed Cassandra to speak (or to listen) more than she wanted to. It gave Cassandra a small flash of pleasure to reflect that one of the benefits of this arrangement might well be spending more time with Josephine.

“Well.” Josephine smoothed her skirts. “I must say, I am pleased you had a change of heart. Very pleased. After the meeting earlier today, I had thought that… Well, it no longer matters.” She turned and smiled at Cassandra. Josephine really was a beautiful woman; her smile was radiant, and it made the corners of her eyes wrinkle in a very charming way. Even Cassandra was not unaffected. 

Cassandra smiled in return. This really was going well. She began to relax. “Yes, once I had the opportunity to reflect, I realized it would not be so very bad. I face many dangerous and unpleasant situations in the line of my duty to the Inquisition. This is no different.”

“Dangerous and… unpleasant?” Josephine’s smile was faltering. 

Cassandra found she very much wanted Josephine’s smile back. The room seemed colder and dimmer without it, despite the fire. So she pressed on. “Well, not _dangerous_ of course. I can’t imagine that — that being close with… being intimate with you would… not dangerous, no.” Cassandra could feel the blood rushing to her face, and looked down at her hands. Damn. It had been going so well, until she had to go and trip over her treacherous tongue, again.

Josephine laughed, a light, musical sound. Cassandra could not quite bring herself to look up, but this was encouraging, so she continued. “Yes. Well. If I can face demons and Red Templars, I can certainly face bedding someone I am not attracted to. It will be no worse than cleaning the stables, or digging a latrine trench,” she said, narrating her earlier thoughts. “It is not a situation either of us wants, but it is our duty to serve the Inquisition, in this and in all we do. Even displeasing tasks become inoffensive when they fulfill our duty — don’t you agree?” Cassandra looked at Josephine. Josephine’s face was once more pale as a sheet, and her mouth was pulled into a grimace. Cassandra started in alarm. “Lady Josephine? Are you unwell?” She reached for Josephine’s shoulder.

Josephine pulled violently back. “No! No, I am — I — please —” She gave a shuddering gasp. Cassandra really was quite alarmed as Josephine rose to her feet, clearly agitated.

“Should I fetch a potion for you? Or a healer?”

“No. I will be well. But please — please leave.” Josephine would not look at Cassandra.

Cassandra stood uncertainly. “Are you sure? I —”

“No.” Josephine shook her head violently to emphasize her meaning. “No. Just — go. Please.”

“Very well. We shall speak later.” Cassandra pulled the door shut behind her, and heard both the latch and lock sliding into place. Evidently Josephine really did wish to be left in peace. Cassandra could certainly understand. When she herself was ill, she had even less patience for other people than usual. To want to be alone was understandable, something they had very much in common. It was, Cassandra reflected, another thing that boded well for their… relationship, such as it was.

She ran into Leliana, who was entering the hallway from the corridor connecting it to Vivienne’s quarters above the Throne Room. “Cassandra. You have spoken with Josephine?”

“Yes.”

“And?” 

“I told her I had agreed to this sealed marriage business. I think she was glad of that; I think we are in agreement.” Leliana nodded, but Cassandra frowned. “But it seems she is ill. She did not look well at all when I left her.”

“Ill?” Leliana looked at her sharply. “And you left her?”

“She wanted to be left alone, Leliana,” Cassandra said brusquely. “I don’t blame her at all. It is very unpleasant to deal with people when one feels unwell. Of course I left when she asked.”

Leliana narrowed her eyes. “I see. Well, everything will shortly be in place on Vivienne’s end. She needs to source a few of the rarer ingredients, but it shouldn’t be anything the scouts can’t handle. Then she will need blood from you and Josephine, and from your witnesses. I will stand as Josie’s witness. You had better ask the Inquisitor or Cullen if you want to keep this business private, but you may ask anyone who is willing to shed a little blood for you.” Leliana smiled wryly. “Willingly, mind you. I know that will be a change from your usual way of causing bloodshed.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Ugh. This magic seal — I don’t like it. It is too close to blood magic.”

“Mmm. Well, Vivienne is willing to do it, so that ought to be enough to reassure you. We should be ready for the ceremony in a week or so. Not a day too soon, either, if we are trying to avoid dealing with Lord Thomasz altogether.” Leliana glanced back up the hallway. “I think I will look in on Josie. But you and I will speak later. There are matters we must discuss pertaining to this marriage.” With a piercing look at Cassandra, Leliana walked past her and up the hallway.

Cassandra sighed. What else was there to talk about? She and Josephine understood one another, and were both willing to go forward with this plan. This entire afternoon had been nothing but talking — unpleasant and awkward talking. Surely there was no need to extend this.

Cassandra decided to visit the tavern. It was unlikely she would be able to read tonight, so she might as well try to find something else to distract her.


	3. Nightingale's Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana is not pleased with Cassandra.

Cassandra had ensconced herself at a table by some of the more sedate mercenaries in the Inquisition’s employ. They didn’t seem to mind her presence, and were discussing the best route to get a caravan through Crestwood in the rainy season, a discussion in which Cassandra was not expected to participate.

Her mind pleasantly drifting after a mug and a half of ale, half-listening to the conversation, Cassandra felt surprisingly at ease. This sealed marriage business was certainly not something she would have chosen. She wished, in fact, that she could somehow personally assassinate Thomasz Pentaghast, both for personal satisfaction for having put her through this, and to eliminate the need for this farce.

Still. It was not nearly as bad as she had originally thought. She was, now that she could think calmly about it, perfectly capable of fulfilling the requirements of the magic sealing. It was unlikely to be the most onerous task she undertook for the Inquisition in any given week, though it made Cassandra flinch to think of the details of what it would entail. No matter; she was capable of doing this thing. 

And Josephine was an agreeable person. If Cassandra was to be attached to anyone, really, she could not have chosen a better partner. Josephine was hardly the type of person Cassandra had ever daydreamed about; she was as unlike the romantic heroes of her novels as could be. She was no strong warrior, no brooding hero, no dashing romantic; more to the point, she was no man. But she was honourable and kind and hard-working. Cassandra enjoyed her company, and found that she wanted very much to bring that lovely smile to Josephine’s face again. Perhaps she could think of something nice to do for Josephine in the coming days — this was what betrothed people did, was it not?

Cassandra was finishing her ale and happily contemplating Josephine’s smile when Leliana came into the tavern like a rage demon. Even the more inebriated patrons knew to get out of her way. When she spotted Cassandra, she headed straight for her. The mercenaries decided they needed to be elsewhere, and beat a hasty retreat.

Cassandra was surprised, but knew better than to try to evade Leliana. Best to get this over with. She was a little concerned — it must be that Josephine was more ill than she realized, and Leliana was here to chastise her for not insisting on taking the Ambassador to a healer.

“Seeker Pentaghast,” Leliana said when she reached the table. “What. Have. You. Done.” Her voice was low, but Cassandra heard every word. Leliana’s body language radiated fury.

Cassandra became truly alarmed, shaking off the pleasant haze from the ale. Was Josephine dangerously ill? “What is it, Leliana? Is something wrong with Josephine?”

Leliana took a slow, audible breath in through her nose. “There is nothing. _Wrong_. With Josephine. No.” She laid a gauntleted hand on Cassandra’s shoulder with a grip that trembled almost imperceptibly. “Come with me.”

Cassandra knew better than to argue. She stood and followed Leliana out of the Herald’s Rest.

Leliana led them up to the Rookery and into a small room off to the side where Leliana kept a narrow cot (as far as Cassandra knew, Leliana did not keep any other quarters at Skyhold), a few books and personal items, and a wooden table with two hard chairs. A single torch burned in a sconce, giving both the room and Leliana herself a rather sinister air.

She did not invite Cassandra to sit. As Cassandra shut the door behind her, Leliana turned to face Cassandra, her expression stony, her posture rigid, her hands clasped tightly in front. She held Cassandra’s gaze until Cassandra, losing patience, snapped, “What?” If this was some emergency to do with Corypheus or other Inquisition business, surely they would be meeting in the war room with the Inquisitor and advisors. If there was nothing wrong with Josephine, what could Leliana possibly have to discuss with Cassandra alone?

“I have had a very informative conversation with Josephine. Regarding your agreement to the sealed marriage,” said Leliana. Her voice was perfectly even, but Cassandra was aware that Leliana was dangerously angry at the moment.

“…Oh?” Cassandra said, baffled.

“I was told,” Leliana went on, her voice colder than the Frostback Mountain winds, “that you made some… uncouth remarks regarding the prospect of intimacy within the proposed sealed marriage.” Cassandra looked blankly at Leliana. “My understanding is that comparisons were made to the mucking out of stables, and the digging of latrine tenches.” Leliana paused. “This would be most unfortunate, if true.”

Cassandra stared at Leliana. “I spoke to Josephine, yes,” she began. “I explained that I was able to regard any… _conjugal duties_ as necessary tasks, tasks I would be willing to do as part of my duty — ”

“Your _duty?_ ” Suddenly, Leliana was practically spitting with rage. Cassandra nearly took a step back in alarm. In the time they had worked together, she had seldom heard Leliana raise her voice, even under duress. “Seeker, do you so cleave to your _duty_ that you are willing to cast aside kindness? Or basic decency?”

Cassandra stared in confusion.

“What were you _thinking_ , Cassandra? What demon possessed you, to make you say such things to Josephine? Why would you be so cruel?”

“Cruel? I — ”

“Yes, cruel!” Leliana was still standing rigidly, her feet splayed, hands clasped so tightly before her that the leather in her gauntlets creaked. She was no longer icy; her expression and voice blazed with fury. “A sealed marriage is the most expedient solution to the situation with Lord Thomasz; it would help the Inquisition. But surely, _surely_ you realize that a sealed marriage is not merely duty, not merely a task.”

“I — ”

Leliana gave no opening. “Josephine has agreed to join her fortune, her reputation, her foreseeable future, to you. That alone ought to be enough to make you take this more seriously.” Cassandra opened her mouth to protest. “But this is so much more than that! Josie is willing to share with you the physical intimacy and closeness of a sealed marriage. By necessity, this means she is sharing emotional intimacy with you. Surely you see this.”

Cassandra stared in consternation. She certainly did _not_ see this. There had not been any talk of… emotional intimacy. Ongoing consummation of the marriage, yes, but….

“What did you think would happen? That you and Josephine would… _‘perform your duty’_ … and then go about the rest of your day-to-day lives as before?” Leliana was no longer hotly angry. She was now looking at Cassandra as though she had suddenly sprouted horns.

Cassandra wanted nothing more at that moment than to end this conversation quickly. There had obviously been some sort of misunderstanding, and the sooner it was resolved, the sooner Cassandra could go back to not thinking about Thomasz or Progenitor Laws or sealed marriages. “I see no reason why that should not be the case,” she said. “Josephine is a reasonable and honourable woman. As am I. We will do what needs to be done, for as long as it needs to be done, to protect the Inquisition from Mortalitasi threats. Josephine has agreed to this; I have agreed to this. What more is there to discuss?”

Leliana unclasped her hands, only to cross her arms and glare at Cassandra. “You are mistaken, Cassandra. Neither you nor Josephine are the kind of people who might be physically intimate without becoming emotionally involved. No; I am right about this. But I can see that I shall not convince you. I suppose you will have to learn this for yourself.” Leliana turned to look out the room’s small window into the blackness of the night. “That matters less, at any rate, than how you have spoken to Josie. You know that she is my friend. I have so few true friends these days. Those that are left, I deeply cherish. And although I count you as a friend as well, Cassandra, I will not tolerate your mishandling of Josephine’s feelings.”

“Her _feelings?_ ” Cassandra exclaimed.

“Yes. Cassandra, reflect for just a moment. How do you think it made Josie feel, hearing you compare lovemaking with her to unpleasant chores involving excrement?”

“I — that is not what I meant,” Cassandra said peevishly. “Why must everyone mistake my meaning? I meant that — ”

“Your meaning counts for nothing at all if your words hurt Josephine,” Leliana said, turning back to face Cassandra. “If you are to be involved with Josephine in any capacity beyond the merely professional — which I believe it is safe to say you will be, if you go through with this plan — then you must be more careful about how you speak to her. She is very skilled at playing the Game, and she can give and take insults with as much ease as you might spar with the recruits in the yard. But with someone she truly cares about, she has no defences, no sophistication.”

“Cares about?” Cassandra repeated.

“Your words today hurt her deeply. It is clear to me that you are ill-prepared for dealing gently and kindly with Josephine in this matter, and I would call off the sealed marriage if I could see any other way to upset Lord Thomasz’s plans. As things stand, I am willing to give you one more chance.”

“ _You_ are willing to give _me_ one more — ”

“You’re welcome,” Leliana said, smirking. “One more chance, and because it seems you are not able to handle this matter if left to your own devices, you will be doing as I say.” Cassandra sputtered, but did not reply. “The hour is late, and I expect that after today’s discomfiture Josephine will be resting. Tomorrow morning, you will seek Josephine out. You will apologize, sincerely and at length.”

“You want me to grovel.”

“If need be. If you must approach her on bended knee and weep bitter tears in order to convince her of your sincerity, then I expect a full and devoted performance from you, Cassandra.” Leliana fixed her with a pointed gaze. “Make the effort. Firstly, because you have hurt Josephine, when she did nothing to deserve it, and making amends is the correct thing to do. Secondly, because it is obvious to us all that this sealed marriage is the best and possibly only means we have of waylaying your cousin’s plans, and it is therefore important to the Inquisition that you ensure that Josie is willing to go through with this despite your mishandling of your prior conversation. It is, in short — ”

“My duty,” Cassandra finished, her voice caustic.

“Precisely. So: you will apologize. Tomorrow morning. I suggest you acquire some fruit pastries from the kitchens, and perhaps a pot of Antiva Oro tea if you can manage it; in this matter, I expect Josephine can be swayed by a little bribery.”

Cassandra snorted. “What else? Shall I compose an epic ballad to express my remorse? Ply her with flowers, or perhaps jewels?”

“Not immediately, no. A woman of Josephine’s standing must be courted appropriately; one must not play one’s hand all at once.”

“…I was joking,” Cassandra said weakly.

“I was not. I mean it, Cassandra. You are at the very least going to go through the motions of courting Josephine. Perhaps if you had handled this better immediately, a more casual relationship would suffice. But at this point, I’m afraid the only solution is for you to put more effort and formality behind your words.”

“Leliana, you cannot be serious.”

“Admittedly,” Leliana sent on as through Cassandra had not spoken, “there is no time for a proper courtship. You have about a week to win her over. Possibly more to the point, Cassandra, you have about a week to convince _me_ that you have done right by Josephine, to convince _me_ that we should do something other than toss you to those Mortalitasi beasts to do with as they please.”

“…You would not. It would harm the Inquisition,” Cassandra breathed.

Leliana regarded her steadily. “I suppose it would, yes. The situation is dire. But I am very, very serious when I tell you that you must make amends to Josephine. You must convince her — and me — that you will treat her with the respect and care she deserves, if not the love.”

“‘Love,’” Cassandra muttered, bending her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Maker preserve me.” She looked up. “Very well. I will speak again to Josephine, then. I will certainly apologize. Earlier today… I suppose that using those particular examples to explain my meaning was ill-advised, and do not make that face at me, Leliana. You know I am not good with words.” She sighed, more or less resigned. “I cannot promise that I will… court Josephine. I respect her, certainly, and I will be more careful with my words, but courtship… is beyond what I can do.”

“I believe,” Leliana said slowly, “that may not be enough to convince Josephine to go through with this.” She held up a hand to forestall Cassandra’s protest. “But I will leave it to you. Either you will convince her to give you another chance, or you will not, and then either we will find another way to deal with Lord Thomasz, or we will not.”

Cassandra grimaced. The idea of speaking more on this matter, of speaking to Josephine and trying to make up for her apparent bungling of their earlier conversation, was bad enough. To have to play at courtship with Josephine went against her very nature. If Thomasz ever made himself known personally to Cassandra, she was likely to run him through with her sword for making her endure this. “Very well,” she said. “I will… try. I would like to point out that none of this was my idea.”

Leliana’s expression softened somewhat. “It sometimes seems that the world falls further and further from grace, every day, and even the righteous are challenged at every step. But, of all the fates that could befall you now, surely courting a charming, beautiful woman is not the worst?” Cassandra snorted. Leliana’s face shifted, becoming more serious. “I care for you both, Cassandra, and I wish for both of you to be happy. Whatever comes to be between you, I ask that you treat her with kindness… for her sake. As well as yours.”


	4. Cassandra the Suitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra goes a-courtin'.

If, the next morning, Cassandra appeared rather distracted during her morning devotions, well, there was only Mother Giselle and a few other devout individuals to witness it, and they were at any rate occupied with their own devotions.

Cassandra wanted nothing more than to escape to her usual drills. Maker, but she wanted to _hit_ something. But she knew that if she so much as walked toward the training dummies with her practice sword, Leliana would be breathing down her neck within moments. Despite the fact that the spymaster was nowhere to be seen, Cassandra had little doubt that she was keeping a close eye on Cassandra this morning.

There was nothing to be done but try to get this over with as quickly and effectively as possible. Perhaps, Cassandra thought hopefully, a night’s rest would grant Josephine a fresh perspective on Cassandra’s remarks, and she would see that they were, in fact, not insulting, but rather a statement of the facts of their respective duties….

Striding toward the kitchen, Cassandra sighed at herself. The truth was, a night of reflection (and restless slumber) had given _her_ food for thought. Her own experience with courtship was… limited. But, if she was being honest with herself, the blunt words she had used with Josephine… comparisons such as she had made… would not have won her over. Quite the opposite. And besides, in the novels she so loved, it would be unthinkable for any romantic hero, even one embarking on a relatively shallow or meaningless tryst, to speak as she had.

There were no fruit pastries that morning, though Cassandra managed to bully a scullery maid into giving her a plate with a few spiced rolls and some fresh butter. Likewise, there was no Antiva Oro tea to be had. Cassandra settled for nicking a freshly-made pot of the more common breakfast tea from one of the smaller cooking fires, and helping herself to a small ewer of cream and a few lumps of sugar from a cart bound for the mess hall. She escaped with her tray of purloined victuals, the kitchen mistress’s annoyed scolding following her down the hall. A few heads turned to follow her progress — people were evidently surprised to see the Seeker carrying a tray of food, making haste to escape the kitchen mistress’s wrath.

This was off to a poor start. Unsurprisingly.

Cassandra did not even try Josephine’s quarters, since the Ambassador would already have begun the day’s work in her study near the war room. Indeed, Josephine was seated at her desk, pen in hand, writing even as she gave orders to one of the two assistants hovering around her desk.

If Josephine noticed Cassandra’s arrival, she did not indicate it. Finishing the memorandum, she handed it to one assistant who took off at a trot, giving Cassandra a curious look as she passed the door. Cassandra felt discomfort settle like a stone in her throat.

Cassandra glanced at Josephine to see if her presence had yet been noted (it hadn’t) and saw, to her immense chagrin, a pot of tea and teacup, and a plate with the last few morsels of bread and soft cheese, on Josephine’s desk.

A number of blasphemous and scatalogical obscenities passed through Cassandra’s mind. This was going from bad to worse.

While Cassandra was mentally weighing making a dignity-saving retreat against Leliana’s inevitable reprimands, Josephine finished giving instructions to the second assistant, who similarly gave Cassandra a quick once-over as he passed. This was also the moment Josephine became (apparently) aware of her presence.

Cassandra wished desperately for a hole to open below her feet and swallow her, or a Fade Rift to materialize and demons to pour forth, even another House of Repose agent to emerge from behind the arras, _anything_ to avoid what was sure to be a painfully awkward interaction, even by Cassandra’s standards.

Josephine did not appear to be particularly surprised to see her. “Seeker Cassandra,” she said neutrally. “How can I help you?”

Cassandra winced. She and Josephine had been on friendly terms just yesterday. She genuinely liked Josephine, and if her present coolness toward Cassandra was the result of yesterday’s missteps — which it surely was — Cassandra found she truly wished to make amends, if she possibly could.

“Lady Josephine,” she said. “I — brought you some breakfast. I thought perhaps you would… be hungry.” She stepped into the room and toward the desk. “Since… it is morning, and I thought… perhaps you had not yet eaten,” Cassandra finished, feeling profoundly awkward.

Josephine and Cassandra both glanced at the nearly-empty plate on the desk. “Ah, I have already broken my fast. But thank you.”

“I see,” Cassandra said miserably, at an utter loss as to what to say next.

Something must have shown in her face, because Josephine appeared to take pity on her. “It was very thoughtful of you,” she said, “and it would be a shame to let it go to waste. If you have not yet eaten, perhaps you would care to join me for a few moments? I find a short break in the morning to be very conducive to productivity.”

“Yes,” Cassandra said. “That is, I have not yet eaten. I… thank you.” She hoped Josephine knew why Cassandra was thanking her.

With a small smile, Josephine gestured to the chairs before the room’s fireplace. Cassandra put the tray on the small table between them and sat. Josephine picked up her empty teacup from her desk, fetched another teacup and two small plates from somewhere on her shelves, and deposited them on the tray. “If you wouldn’t mind pouring,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to the door leading to the Throne Room. Cassandra did as instructed, adding cream and sugar to Josephine’s teacup — she had taken tea with Josephine enough times to recall how she preferred it. 

She heard Josephine give orders to the guard outside the door that they were not to be disturbed except for an emergency. Thank the Maker that Josephine was willing to hear her out, and willing to do so in private. Cassandra felt a faint spark of hope that perhaps this conversation would not be a complete fiasco.

Josephine settled herself in the chair opposite Cassandra. “Oh!” she said, picking up her teacup. “You remembered!” she said, pleased. She took a sip, and glanced meaningfully at the plate of rolls. “Please, you must be hungry.”

Cassandra thought that she had never felt less hungry in her life. But perhaps it would be good to have something to fiddle with while they talked, so she took a roll, broke off a piece and tentatively nibbled it. She had been hoping that perhaps Josephine would initiate the conversation herself; she had to be aware of why Cassandra was there, bringing food no less. But it seemed that Josephine’s mercy had limits, and she merely glanced at Cassandra while sipping her tea.

Finally, Cassandra set down her roll. She took a large sip of tea to wet her throat. “Lady Josephine,” she said, struggling clumsily with the words, “I must apologize to you for… for yesterday.” She paused, glancing at Josephine, whose expression did not change. “I am not good at talking. That is, I am not able to find the words to say what… I…” Cassandra trailed off and looked at Josephine pleadingly. Josephine sipped her tea. Cassandra took a deep breath, then tried again. “I am very, very sorry about much of what I said to you yesterday. I said things that were… crude, and unfair… about my views on this sealed marriage, about my… my feelings,” Cassandra said, cringing. “My feelings. About you. And about… the possibility… the necessity of what we must do if….” Cassandra stuttered to a stop. The blood was pounding in her face. She looked away from Josephine’s calm face, fixed her eyes on the windowpane, and silently prayed for the Maker to take her to His side. Immediately.

Finally, Josephine set down her teacup. “I understand,” she said softly. “And of course I forgive you. I will admit I was startled by your comparisons, but in truth… I should have expected that you would be very uncomfortable and unhappy with the proposed arrangement.” Cassandra finally tore her gaze from the windowpane to look at Josephine, who continued, “I cannot in good conscience agree to a marriage — especially not a sealed marriage — which one party finds so very objectionable. I — ” And here, Josephine was the one to look away. “I do not believe that this solution would make either of us happy, as it stands. We will find another way.”

Cassandra stared. “Josephine — Lady Josephine — I was under the impression that the sealed marriage is the _only_ way. Leliana assures me that it is to be sealed marriage, or I am to be thrown to the Mortalitasi, and the Inquisition will suffer.”

“Nevertheless,” Josephine replied, “I cannot. I cannot condemn us both to misery. I… I am sorry. I will find another way.”

Cassandra was baffled. Surely there was no other way — Leliana had made as much clear, and Cassandra was reasonably certain that Josephine, despite her intelligence and diplomatic skills, did not have any insight that Leliana did not have. 

Cassandra’s breath caught as a realization dawned: this was what Leliana had meant, obviously, when she spoke of convincing Josephine to go through with the planned magic sealing. Josephine was, as Leliana predicted (or knew), now set against it. 

One week, thought Cassandra. One week until the magics needed to complete the seal were prepared. If they were lucky, Lord Thomasz would not make a move before then. They did not have time to find another way.

Cassandra made a decision, then, to commit to this path. She had truly meant it when she had agreed to the seal, and all it entailed; consummation of a sealed marriage was not something she would have happily chosen to do, but it could be done. Similarly, if the motions of courtship were what would secure Josephine’s participation in this scheme, well, it was certainly something Cassandra could manage. It would be embarrassing, to be sure. But Cassandra was, frankly, very familiar with romance and courtship from her novels. If she could overcome her embarrassment, she was certainly capable of performing the kind of romantic gestures that she herself might like, were the roles reversed.

Very well. This, she _could_ do.

She reached across to the chair where Josephine sat and, very cautiously, as though Josephine were a wild animal that might bite, placed her hand over one of Josephine’s where it lay in her lap. Josephine glanced up, startled, but did not move her hand.

“Lady Josephine,” Cassandra said, excruciatingly cautious about every word. “I believe that a sealed marriage is the only way. And it is something that… that I do think would make me happy.” Josephine’s jaw dropped; Cassandra pressed on. “You are a skilled and intelligent woman; your hard work and diplomatic expertise are invaluable. I admire you greatly. And you are… you are very beautiful,” Cassandra said, stumbling over the word. She felt herself flush, but forced herself not to look away. Josephine blushed an attractive shade of rosy pink, and glanced down to her lap where Cassandra’s hand laid over hers. Impulsively, Cassandra shifted her grip so that Josephine’s hand lay in hers, held it lightly, and ran her thumb over Josephine’s knuckles. It was astonishing, how soft her fingers were. Cassandra had never given a moment’s thought to her own heavily calloused and scarred hands, but now, with Josephine’s hand in hers, she was aware of how rough her hand must feel against Josephine’s delicate silken fingers….

“I enjoy your company,” Cassandra said, slightly rushed. “I, I have always enjoyed spending time with you. I see no reason why being — being close to you, being joined to you, would not make me happy.” Cassandra could not stop running her thumb over Josephine’s warm fingers. “And I… I would very much like to make you happy. I would like to try. If you will let me.”

Josephine looked slowly up from her lap. Cassandra found it difficult to hold her gaze. She was profoundly embarrassed. And Josephine’s face was… well. Cassandra had not been stretching the truth. Josephine _was_ very beautiful, though Cassandra had never been quite so exquisitely aware of her beauty until that moment. Josephine was still rather pink under the freckles that were dusted across her face, and her lips were parted slightly in consternation. Her eyes were a remarkable shimmering slate green, like sunlight on a pool of clear water in a forest….

Cassandra inhaled sharply. Now was not the time to get lost in her romantic imaginings. “I know that… I have not made a strong impression as someone who might make you happy,” she said. “I am sorry. I will do better. I will… if you would allow it, if you are still willing, I would pay you court, Lady Josephine.” Cassandra heard her voice weaken as she spoke. She was embarrassed and terrified. If Josephine refused… it would be very bad. But Josephine gave no indication of what her reaction was to this proposal. “We would only have a very short time, before the marriage is to happen,” Cassandra went on, “but if you would like, if you would allow it, I will court you. I will try to prove to you that I could be… that I can make you happy. And that I am made happy by you, by your presence in my life.”

Josephine’s eyes were very wide, and clear, as she looked at Cassandra. Her fingers stirred, and she gripped Cassandra’s hand lightly. “Goodness. I was not expecting this. After yesterday, I was sure that… that you were appalled by the idea of a sealed marriage. But if you truly are not, if you could be happy in such a union, then I believe I would… not object to a closer relationship.”

Cassandra found herself smiling at Josephine, who smiled back. “Good — good,” said Cassandra. “Then I shall — ”

They were at that moment interrupted by a knock at the office door, which was pushed open a second later. Josephine pulled her hand away abruptly, and Cassandra in turn sat back in her chair, mortified.

The diplomatic attache who entered the room seemed not to notice, and immediately engaged Josephine in a rushed conversation about some minor calamity with one of the visiting nobles. Josephine rose from her chair, effortlessly slipping into the role of the problem-solving diplomat. Unsure what to do, Cassandra also rose.

Josephine was already seated behind her desk, the attache hovering before her. She looked at Cassandra regretfully, saying, “I am sorry we could not finish our conversation.”

Cassandra gave a slight bow. “I understand.” She hesitated. “Perhaps we might talk again soon?”

Josephine smiled. Cassandra thought it lit up the room like the sun. “I would like that very much,” Josephine said.


	5. Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaera Lavellan has a few things to say.

After she left Josephine that day — after Josephine had agreed to be courted, to allow Cassandra to convince her of her good intentions — Cassandra headed immediately for the yard. She would still be able to get in a decent set of drills before the midday meal if she was quick about it.

She found the Inquisitor at the practice dummies, going through a set of drills with twin daggers. Kaera had been trained to hunt with bow and arrows, and in battle she was a very skilled markswoman. She had begun practicing with double daggers after a few missions where the party was not ideally balanced between ranged and melee fighters. The Mark on her left hand necessitated her presence on the majority of missions, since it seemed that new Rifts were appearing every day. It made sense for the Inquisitor to train herself to be versatile fighter, and Cassandra approved. Kaera was not skilled enough yet to use daggers against truly challenging foes, but she was obviously improving with her practice.

They nodded to one another. Cassandra moved to the farthest practice dummy, stretched and warmed up her muscles, then began her drills with perhaps more energy than usual.

When the sun was at its zenith, they both wound down their exercises. Cassandra went to a nearby rain barrel for a drink, and the Inquisitor followed. Watching as Cassandra sipped water from her cupped hands, Kaera broke what had been a comfortable silence. “Leliana mentioned that you are formally courting Josephine.”

Cassandra managed not to spit out her mouthful of water, but it was a close thing. Swallowing with difficulty, she looked at the Inquisitor, shocked. Was Leliana really spreading this news around?

Kaera seemed to sense her thoughts. She smiled crookedly. “Not to worry, Seeker. I don’t think this is common knowledge. Leliana wanted me to be aware of a situation that could have an impact on the day-to-day operations and working relationships of the Inquisition.” Kaera took a drink from the barrel, then fixed Cassandra with a pointed gaze. “Cassandra — I hope you are taking this seriously.”

“Of course I am taking it seriously! Why do people keep questioning that?” Cassandra sputtered. “If the alternative is to be forcefully married to Lord Thomasz and carted off to Nevarra, why would I not take it seriously?”

“I don’t mean that,” Kaera said calmly. “I mean that you must take this courtship seriously. Josephine deserves to be treated like any other courted woman. I know you well enough to know that you are a romantic at heart, so you will be able to go through the motions. But I also know that you are… not naturally drawn to women, that way. I know — I know how hard it must be, for Josephine, that she also knows this about you.”

“Hard for _Josephine?_ ”

“Yes. Cassandra, I know you will struggle with this, but… you have agreed to this. You have agreed to treat this arrangement like any other duty in service of the Inquisition. Josephine is not like that. Oh, she is as devoted to her duty as anyone in the Inquisition. But this marriage, I know she will not see it as duty. She will see it as a relationship, and she will become… emotionally attached. I ask that you be aware of this, and that you approach the emotional side of the sealing with the respect that Josephine deserves, even though she is a woman.”

“Between you and Leliana, Josephine certainly does not lack for champions,” Cassandra said drily.

Kaera shrugged. “I know it seems as through everyone and everything conspires against you in this. We — Leliana and I are aware of the sacrifice you are making, and that none of this is your choice. However, we also aware that Josephine is… possibly more vulnerable to being really hurt.”

“I do not see how this could affect her more than me. It affects us both equally, does it not?”

Kaera smiled without humour. “I do not think so; but I expect you will find this out for yourself. Good luck, Seeker.”

Cassandra stared after her as she walked off. First Leliana, now the Inquisitor. What did they expect of her — that she was going to be callous and cruel to Josephine? Certainly, her behaviour yesterday had been bad, but that could be attributed to shock. She was now completely prepared to do well by Josephine. She _would_ do well by Josephine, and would treat her with the respect and kindness she deserved. No, this was an unfortunate situation, to be sure, but Leliana’s and Kaera’s concerns were misplaced.


	6. Creative Writing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which letters are exchanged.

Cassandra had washed, changed, and managed to catch the last of the midday meal. Her afternoon was conspicuously free of invitations, requests for her time, or meetings — Leliana’s doing, no doubt. Cassandra could have ventured into the training yard to help with the recruits, or gone to inspect and repair her armour and weapons, or even snuck off to read somewhere, but Leliana would certainly have found her and chivvied her along. No, it was clear that she was meant to begin this courtship as soon as possible. Cassandra could hardly dispute the logic in that. She had less than a week, if that, to convince Josephine of her good intentions and suitability as a partner in this undertaking. Best to get on with it.

Having given it some thought, Cassandra decided that simpler gestures, and ones not relying on speaking, were probably best. She had already proven, as though anyone had doubted it previously, that she was not good with talking. A note, though; at least there, she could reflect before delivering her correspondence.

She managed to find some decent-quality paper, ink and pens, and all the other necessaries, and a well-lit room to write in. She spent perhaps more time than was strictly required lighting a fire and trimming the pens and arranging everything just so… but, despite her dislike for doing things she was frustratingly not good at, Cassandra was not overly given to procrastination. She sat and took up a pen.

 _Dear Lady Josephine_ , she wrote. Ugh, this was so awkward, even in writing! _It is my hope that you are well._ How ridiculous; she saw Josephine every day, and knew that she was quite well. She scratched that line out and tried again. _You have been in my thoughts._ Good. That was both romantic and true — for the last day, when she was not ruminating on the terribleness of the circumstances, Cassandra found her thoughts drifting to Josephine, in ways that were not unpleasant. She found such thoughts disconcerting, but she supposed it was for the best that her thoughts of her… her intended were affectionate. 

_It pains me that my own unwelcome circumstances, and a threat to the Inquisition which we both serve, have forced you to consider the suit of one as uncouth and unworthy as myself._ Yes, that was good. It was coming more easily now, as Cassandra tapped into her recollection of such letters in her novels. And still, Cassandra was not dissembling — Josephine certainly deserved to be courted by some charming, charismatic, noble player of the Game. Cassandra could not be that person, but she could give Josephine a version of courtship that reflected the respect and warmth Cassandra felt toward her. _However, I cannot regret that I am afforded the opportunity to pursue a closer relationship with you…._

By the time Cassandra was relatively satisfied with the letter, she had scratched out and re-attempted at least half of it. She made a clean copy and tossed the draft into the fire. The letter was brief, but that was probably for the best. And it was not particularly original — for nearly every sentence, Cassandra could easily identify the romance-novel passage it had come from. (Belatedly, she wondered whether Josephine read novels, and might recognize where the turns of phrase had come from.) It would suffice. It was certainly better than anything else Cassandra had penned. In this, her reading habits had served her well.

_Dear Lady Josephine,_

_You have been in my thoughts. It pains me that my own unwelcome circumstances, and a threat to the Inquisition which we both serve, have forced you to consider the suit of one as uncouth and unworthy as myself._

_However, I cannot regret that I am afforded the opportunity to pursue a closer relationship with you. I have long appreciated your diplomatic acumen, your intelligence, and your dedication to the Inquisition. The longer I have known you, the more my admiration for your skills has grown._

_Beyond your considerable skills, I deeply admire your charm, wit, and grace. You are the most accomplished and engaging woman of my acquaintance. I deeply cherish your friendship. I very sincerely hope you will do me the honour of permitting my courtship to progress. I am dedicated to your happiness, and to our friendship, regardless._

After a brief internal debate, she signed the note simply _Yours, C.P._ , blotted it, and carefully folded and sealed it. By this time, the afternoon light was beginning to soften toward dusk, which came early in the mountains. 

What to do about delivering the note? Cassandra had considered a few possibilities. None appealed to her especially. But, after all her trouble writing it, it needed to find its way to Josephine’s hands. She could bring it to her in her office — she was likely to still be there, as the evening meal would not formally start for at least an hour. But no. That was so profoundly unromantic, and antithetical to the contents and intention of the letter, Cassandra could not bring herself to consider it. There was also the possibility of slipping it under the door to Josephine’s quarters. But again, it did not seem right to leave such a note on the floor where it might get dirty or trodden on, nor to force Josephine to stoop to retrieve it.

She had to be sure that Josephine received the note, tonight, and that it was not somehow opened by anyone else — no leaving it tied around the doorknob to her quarters. Really, the best way was…. She sighed to herself. The best way she could see was to have a servant bring the note to Josephine at tonight’s meal. Evening meals at Skyhold were more formal than morning or midday meals. Visiting nobility and worthies were almost always in attendance. Certainly, with a handful of touchy nobles in residence, Josephine would be sure to be present, doing her usual dance of diplomacy. The idea of having the note delivered in public was embarrassing, but Cassandra was also aware that it was a very romantic gesture, and in keeping with the expected rituals of courtship of a woman of Josephine’s station and background.

Cassandra often absented herself from the evening meal in favour of getting something hot to eat at the Herald’s Rest, or picking up something cold from the kitchens to eat in her own quarters while reading. She had no use for formal dinners or mincing nobility. But she supposed she would have to put in an appearance tonight. She had to make sure the note was correctly delivered, after all, and Josephine would expect her suitor to be present to observe her reaction to the note. Once again, Cassandra’s reading habits had prepared her well for this unexpected role.

Cassandra tracked down a servant with whom she had a cordial relationship, an older city-elf woman whom Cassandra knew to be efficient and discreet. Face burning, she explained the task she was entrusting to this woman, and pressed the note (and a handful of silvers) into her hands. The woman smiled reassuringly, tucked both the note and the tip into her apron, and promised that the note would be delivered with all due propriety.

Before dressing for dinner, Cassandra spent a few moments in prayer in the chantry. It seemed silly to pray for this courtship to go well, for her ridiculous note to be well received, for Josephine to be happy with her. But, Cassandra reminded herself, the stability of the Inquisition depended on Cassandra not being compelled to go to Nevarra and become a Mortalitasi consort and broodmare. In a way, it was about the security of the Inquisition. But Cassandra increasingly felt that this was becoming much more personal than she would have anticipated.

***

Dressed in her formal Seeker apparel, Cassandra felt profoundly ill-at-ease walking into the dining hall that evening. She recognized many of her Inquisition colleagues, similarly wearing whatever nicer clothing they owned that was not strictly practical. She also noted, with some dismay, that her colleagues were nearly outnumbered by the visiting nobles in their finery, and by the nobles’ entourages of attendants, clerks, assistants, scribes, ladies-in-waiting, tasters, and Maker knew who else. Josephine, of course, was squarely in the middle of the nobles, along with the Inquisitor (who looked somewhat less comfortable than Josephine, but notably more comfortable than Cassandra herself felt).

No one was yet seated. Cassandra hesitantly accepted a small glass of wine from a passing server. She needed her wits about her, at least until she could escape from this dinner. Cullen sidled up to her, wine goblet in hand.

“Ah, Cassandra! Are you going to throw your glass at me again?” he asked with a grin, glancing at the wine in her hand. Cassandra gave a half-smile and shook her head. “Good. I’d hate to see this wine go to waste — they’ve broken out the good stuff tonight.” He took an appreciative sip. “Leliana mentioned you might make an appearance,” he remarked.

“Did she now,” Cassandra said, annoyed.

“We were planning a coordinated effort between the troops and Leliana’s agents near the Shrine of Dumat, and she told me that we were done for the evening, and that I should attend tonight’s dinner.” Cullen gave a small smile as he sipped his wine. “She needed to finalize some communiqués, but she told me that you would likely need some moral support tonight.”

Cassandra scowled. “Leliana knows what is best for everyone, doesn’t she.”

“Now, now, Seeker. She explained to me a little of what you are doing regarding this sealed marriage business. This can’t be easy for you. For either of you.” Cassandra shot a glance at him; he seemed sincere. “Being forced into something like this… if there was any other way, believe me, we would be taking it. I wish our forces on the ground in Nevarra were more robust, but….” His brows knotted. “I’m sure your cousin thinks he has us outsmarted with this. If we did not have the solution of a sealed marriage, to an ally within the Inquisition, we would be in a very bad place, strategically.” Cullen looked at Cassandra, his lips quirking. “I imagine he will be quite satisfyingly outraged when he finds we have thwarted his plans.”

Cassandra gave a faint smile. “I suppose he will, yes, knowing that branch of my family.”

“So there’s that! And look — soon there will be food on the tables.” People were indeed beginning to seat themselves at the dining tables. “So it’s not all bad. Come. Let’s find a quiet table away from the throng of Their Nibses, shall we?”

They managed to seat themselves at a table near a wall (both Cullen and Cassandra having a preference for dining with their backs to a wall and doors in sight), away from the nobility, and surrounded by knots of Inquisition colleagues who mostly ignored them in favour of their own conversations. Cassandra could also see Josephine, seated at a table surrounded by the most gaudily-dressed nobles. She tried to keep an eye on her as inconspicuously as possible; fortunately, Cullen did not remark on this.

Cassandra took advantage of the general din to quietly ask Cullen how he was faring. Despite several initial setbacks during his self-imposed lyrium withdrawal, he had not had an incident of ill health or of losing control of his temper for some time. Cullen, equally quietly, gave an optimistic reply. This was good, and matched what Cassandra had observed. This was no guarantee that this experiment would continue to go well, but, with both Cassandra and the Inquisitor supporting his efforts, it seemed that Cullen was mastering his lyrium addiction.

In keeping with the more formal nature of the meal, the food being served was more fussy than Cassandra preferred, but it was quite good, and there were servers refilling her wine glass seemingly every time she took a sip. She was unhappy about having to be at the dinner at all, but there was no reason not to indulge. Having gotten the serious topic of lyrium withdrawal out of the way, she and Cullen bantered about the Inquisition recruits, gossip from the Herald’s Rest, and skirmishes they had been in recently. Between the conversation, the food, and the wine, Cassandra was feeling reasonably good about the evening, was even able to enjoy herself, though she kept glancing at Josephine’s table.

She knew the note would be passed to Josephine only toward the end of the meal. This would, Cassandra knew, allow Josephine a great deal of control over how the reception of the note was perceived by both its sender and by the larger audience. If Josephine decided to show discretion, she would simply tuck the note away, or act as though the note was from one of her assistants; if she decided to… show somewhat less discretion, she could be varying degrees of coy about the note, up to and including reading it at the table. (Cassandra fervently hoped Josephine would not read the letter at the table.)

Cassandra was actually becoming quite tired by the end of the meal. This was later than she was normally up and about, and she had had… how many glasses of wine? She hoped the note would be handed off soon so she could leave.

As a final sweet dish was being served, a servant — not the one Cassandra had spoken to, but a young man with a regally upright bearing who had been serving the nobles at Josephine’s table, approached Josephine, murmured something in her ear, and discreetly slipped (what Cassandra assumed was) the letter into Josephine’s hand.

Cassandra held her breath, watching Josephine’s reaction. Josephine hesitated for a second. Cassandra thought… _hoped_ she saw the faintest hint of a smile touch Josephine’s lips. Then, with a graceful motion, the note was tucked into a vest pocket, and Josephine turned to one of her dining companions with an agreeable smile, indicating that she intended to remain at the table but not acknowledge the letter immediately. The transaction would be noticed by the more observant (and nosier) nobles and servants, but in all likelihood they would respect Josephine’s tacit preference for discretion.

Cassandra felt herself relax considerably, to the point where even Cullen noticed. “Cassandra, what… ah.” He followed Cassandra’s gaze before she could avert it entirely. “I take it something went according to plan?”

“Yes,” Cassandra replied. “I suppose so. For now.”

***

The next morning, Cassandra found an envelope on the small table in her quarters. It bore the address “C.P.” in elegant calligraphy. It was… mildly disconcerting to find such a thing delivered to her (supposedly) private quarters while she slept. But she supposed she had no real grounds for complaint, having stubbornly refused to be re-quartered in proper chambers in the castle itself, rather than the upper levels of the smithy building. And Josephine certainly had the wherewithal to have a letter delivered to her in such a manner, so it was not especially surprising.

She was of half a mind to ignore the note and go about her morning devotions as usual, but Cassandra was not entirely convinced that — training and temperament notwithstanding — she would be able to focus her mind on her Maker, knowing that letter was sitting unopened on her table.

Opening it by her bedside candle, she read:

_My dear Cassandra,_

_I was most pleased to receive your message. You are also in my thoughts, as, indeed, you have been for some short time. The circumstances that necessitated your courtship are certainly regrettable, although I must admit that I am nonetheless happy to accept your suit._

_My concerns about your sincerity and willingness remain. I do not, under any circumstances, wish to compel you to pursue me, or force you to agree to a sealed marriage. Affection and attraction must necessarily underlie such an endeavour, lest marriage become anathema._

_In order for this courtship to proceed, I will require some confirmation of your genuine affection. I accept that this will not be a grand love affair, but I do not believe it too much to ask for devotion and tenderness, even from a negotiated engagement._

_I could wish for more time, time in which we might more naturally be able to come to a place of intimacy and trust. However, the urgency of our situation does not allow for such luxuries. I hope, then, that you will not think me too forward if I invite you to take the evening meal with me tonight, in my chambers._

_I hope you know that I have great admiration and regard for you; regardless of the outcome of our current situation, this will not change._

_Ever yours, J. Montilyet._

Cassandra read the letter over several times, trying to gauge her feelings. She supposed she felt mostly relief — that Josephine was being kind and receptive, that she was taking some initiative, that she was being unambiguous about her expectations. What Josephine wanted made a great deal of sense, truly. Cassandra was realizing that her initial supposition — her assumption that this sealed marriage business could be conducted with the same unfeeling efficiency of any duty-bound task — was incorrect, not only for for Josephine, but for herself as well. There was nothing wrong with cultivating affection and trust between any two people working together toward a common goal.

She even found herself looking forward to spending the evening with Josephine. It was certainly gratifying that the Ambassador was willing to forgo one of the more formal evening meals with the nobles and visitors of Skyhold. A private meal, and time spent in pleasant company; as long as Cassandra did not trip over her own tongue too badly (which was always a possibility), there was no reason it would not be an enjoyable time.


	7. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra gets all spiffed up and goes on a date.

After finding and reading Josephine’s letter, Cassandra passed the morning in blessed, uneventful routine. She performed her devotions, broke her fast, went through her drills, chatted briefly with The Iron Bull and Cremisius in between their bouts of sparring, observed Cullen running the recruits through their exercises, and took the midday meal.

It was too good to last, of course. Leliana found her as she was leaving the mess hall. “I hear you have a rendezvous this evening, Cassandra.”

Cassandra scowled, annoyed. “Yes, Leliana. And you are here to meddle, and tell me what to do.”

“I am,” Leliana agreed, sounding mildly amused. “I still do not trust you to handle this affair with a proper care for Josephine’s feelings. You can hardly blame me in this.”

“Hmph.”

“Don’t pout, Cassandra. You are doing much better, after all. Josephine is willing to give you a chance. And she is quite fond of you, you know.”

“She barely knows me.”

“Does she not? You have worked together these many months. Even though you no longer join us in the war room on a regular basis, you have worked together to strategize around Chantry matters, and diplomatic relations with Nevarra. Josephine is observant and interested in people; she _knows_ you. Her fondness for you is genuine, even if you have been unaware of it.”

Cassandra stared. “I… cannot imagine that she is more fond of _me_ than of any other acquaintance.”

“Can you not? It is why she agreed to attempt a sealed marriage, why it seemed like a viable solution. But, no matter; it is true whether or not you have observed it yourself. Now, about your soirée,” Leliana said, holding up a hand to deflect Cassandra’s attempt to respond. “You will, of course, conduct yourself with utmost care for Josephine’s dignity and sensibility. You will be kind and warm. And you will bring her some tokens of your affection.”

“Tokens…?”

“These need not be extravagant. I believe you should be able to find a bottle of eiswein at the merchants’ stalls; something you can bring to share over the dessert course. And I do not think the Inquisitor would mind terribly if you helped yourself to a few blooms from the chantry-yard garden, for a small bouquet.”

It was not a bad suggestion, though Cassandra wished Leliana would not meddle so. “I suppose I can do that,” she admitted.

“I am glad to hear it.” Leliana turned to leave. “Go see the merchants now; I understand there’s only one bottle of real eiswein to be had.”

***

Naturally, there _was_ only the one bottle — of course Leliana would have known this — which Cassandra purchased for a not-insubstantial amount. She also came across a small case of Antiva Oro tea, which she purchased for an even greater amount. (Ridiculous that lightweight tea leaves should cost more than a relatively rare Nevarran wine. But that was the way of it in a remote location like this; one paid the asking price, because there was really no alternative. She hoped it would be worth it when she was able to make proper tea for Josephine.)

After securing her purchases in her quarters (she may not have a door, but she did have a small trunk with a charmed padlock) she spent the afternoon going over drills with the Chargers. The mercenary band had an enviable camaraderie and loyalty that resulted in effective group dynamics on the field of battle.

When the training ended, Cassandra was left with perhaps an hour or more before she would be expected at Josephine’s door. There were any number of tasks she could have accomplished, but she found herself entertaining the desire to… _preen_ a little, before dinner. Typically, if she was being coerced into attending one of Skyhold’s more formal dinners, she would do little more than change her clothing, and perhaps smooth down her hair and re-apply her kohl if she had been working strenuously. But for a private dinner, with a woman she was meant to be courting, a woman who was always beautifully turned out… Cassandra had her pride, after all. It simply wouldn’t do to appear for dinner in Josephine’s quarters in her untidy day clothes and her third-best cuirass, hair and face in disarray from sparring with the Chargers.

Cassandra rarely availed herself of Skyhold’s underground bathing rooms. She usually made do with water (heated, if she was feeling decadent) and plain soap, using the sturdy porcelain chamber set in her quarters. Very occasionally, before the Breach had thrown everything into chaos and torn Divine Justinia from her, Cassandra had indulged in the unspeakable luxury of a private hot bath, usually at an inn while she was traveling on some Chantry errand. She did not especially like bathing in public, even if the water — from the various springs upon which Skyhold sat — was hot and copious, and she was reluctant to request that a tub and hot water be brought to her by the servants. But a bath, a real bath, seemed an appropriate way to prepare for tonight’s rendezvous.

Unfortunately, the bathing rooms were quite busy at this time of day, but there wasn't much to be done about that. The women’s baths were full of Inquisition staff, soldiers, and non-noble visitors, bathing before the evening meal, all of whom seemed to be carrying on conversations with one another at the top of their lungs. The noise echoed in the stone chamber. Cassandra had the foresight to bring a basket for her clothing — it was likely to get soaked if she left it on the floor, even at the far side of the room — and a bit of nice soap and a bottle of fragrant oil that few would have guessed she owned. Stripping down and avoiding eye contact (despite the prevailing custom, she was not interested in the usual banter between strangers that occurred in bathing places) she quickly and thoroughly washed herself at one of the spigots on the near wall, then slipped into one of the tubs that was less packed with bodies.

Bathing in Skyhold’s water was said to make the skin soft. Dagna had mentioned to Cassandra once that this was likely due to dissolved minerals in the water, but also possibly some kind of ancient elven magic woven into the foundations beneath the hold. Regardless of its “magical” properties, the water was warm and pleasant and deep, and Cassandra closed her eyes and tried to relax and enjoy it despite the cacophony.

After a time (during which she was miraculously not jostled nor spoken to), she somewhat reluctantly emerged, her fingers and toes pink and wrinkled from soaking, feeling refreshed and rather cheerful. She smoothed some oil on her skin and hair, then quickly dressed and escaped before something happened to shatter her mood.

Since she already had the basket, with plenty of room in it next to the soap cake and oil bottle, she decided to detour through the chantry yard to collect some flowers. She somehow suspected that Leliana would find out if Cassandra neglected to bring flowers, and skipping this task was not worth the rebuke it would earn her.

Cassandra knew from her novels that flowers often had specific meanings, and no doubt Josephine would be aware of all of them, but Cassandra only had a grasp of the broadest strokes. And at any rate, Skyhold had no roses for love, no ranunculus for charm, no gladioli for passion. Cassandra had no idea what most of the flowers in Skyhold even _were_ — they were things the Inquisitor had collected on her travels to cultivate here, some good for potions and charms, others purely decorative. Cassandra selected a handful of stems of something with blossoms of purple edged in dark blue, several large yellow daisy-like stalks, and a few blooms of Crystal Grace, always being careful not to harm the plants unduly. Mercifully, no one seemed to be around to observe the Seeker picking flowers. 

Back in her quarters, she fussed briefly with her hair and face, and quickly re-did her braid and kohl. She changed into one of the few sets of non-liveried good clothing she had: a dark blue shirt with long sleeves, with breeches and a tunic dyed to match and trimmed with gold thread. She had thought her non-practical outfits an unnecessary luxury at one time, but she was now glad Leliana had convinced her to acquire them.

Opening her trunk, Cassandra put away her nice soap and oil, and briefly searched for and then removed a wooden card with several lengths of ribbon wound around it. Cassandra very, _very_ rarely bothered with adornment beyond her everyday braid and black-lined eyes. When she had worn her hair long, though, she would occasionally put it up it in a style where a pretty ribbon might be woven through it, or used to bind it, and for whatever reason had kept the ribbons over the years. She picked a dark blue silk grosgrain that was sturdy enough to tie the stems with and suited the purple flowers. The resulting bouquet was not grand or especially elegant, but Cassandra thought it was pretty enough.

Carrying the bouquet in one hand and tucking the bottle of eiswein under her other elbow, she set out for Josephine’s quarters. With any luck, the vast majority of Skyhold’s denizens would be taking their own meals somewhere, and she would escape notice.

*** 

Luck, alas, was not on her side, and she encountered Varric as she made her way through the throne room.

“Seeker! Looks like you’ve got a big date!” he called from his seat by the fire.

Cassandra quickened her pace. “Not now, Varric.”

“Flowers _and_ wine, eh? Are you sure I’m not invited?”

“Ugh!”

“I have to say, you clean up real nice, Seeker. Whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy!” Varric declared, loudly enough for Cassandra to hear halfway down the throne room, and certainly loud enough that the few other people lingering there at that hour heard. Cassandra’s face burned. Damn that irritating dwarf! He could never pass up an opportunity to vex her. She could only hope that he wouldn’t spread tales about her “big date” at the Herald’s Rest that evening.

A thought occurred to her that made her slow almost to a dead stop in the deserted hallway. At some point, Varric would know of this engagement, of this sealed marriage. No doubt everyone in the Inquisition would soon know. From a tactical point of view, it would make sense for all their allies to know that Thomasz Pentaghast of Nevarra had made a move against the Inquisition in this way. And then this sealed marriage business would come out, would be known beyond the Inquisitor’s innermost circle.

She felt a moment of utter dread, imagining how she and Josephine would be at the centre of attention, and likely the recipients of no small number of inappropriate comments. 

But… well, if there was anyone in the world who could handle comments and gossip, even turn them around to work in their favour, it was Josephine. And certainly Leliana would employ everything from her intimidating presence to her extensive spy network to protect Josephine’s reputation and dignity. The Inquisitor and even Vivienne seemed to be intent on managing the whole affair with their best interests at heart. Perhaps, despite the Varrics of the world, it would not be so bad.

Best to put all that out of her mind. Tonight, she had to at least try to play the suitor. Thank the Maker Josephine seemed to be willing, at this point, to play along.

***

The dinner had been going wonderfully, as far as Cassandra was concerned. Josephine had appeared very pleased with the flowers, which went into a glass vase on the low table before the settee. The wine was set aside for the dessert course. Josephine immediately poured them each an aperitif — Orlesian sparkling white wine. Cassandra was very happy to accept it, to have something to do with her hands as they sat themselves at the small table in by the window. And something to take the edge off her nerves. 

Their conversation was indeed a little awkward at first. Neither seemed to know what to say, or what tone to strike. By the second glass of sparkling wine, though, their tongues seemed to have loosened, and they conversed more easily.

Josephine apologized that the meal would not be as grand as the night before. (So. Josephine had noticed Cassandra’s attendance, or been informed of it at least.) Covered trays had apparently been delivered prior to Cassandra’s arrival, and they were set on the table by the window. Josephine removed the dome covering the largest platter with a flourish to reveal fish pies, accompanied by cooked greens. “It may not look like much,” Josephine had remarked, “but I assure you, the fish pies are quite rich — a specialty for Antivan fishermen, whose appetites are renowned!”

As they ate at the table, they chatted over inconsequential things, Inquisition news and gossip, and traded entertaining tales from their lives before the Inquisition (Cassandra generally preferred not to discuss the more… lively tales from her past; but she found she did not mind at all listening to Josephine animatedly talk about her girlhood in Antiva City, or her adventures during her brief time as a bard).

Josephine was lively and engaging, and very easy to be with, Cassandra observed as they sipped the dry white Antivan wine that had accompanied their dinner. They were now on the settee, across from the fire. The firelight was warm, and lent a glow to Josephine’s exposed skin. She was wearing a gown Cassandra had not seen before, and although she was normally not given to noticing fashions, she was reasonably certain she would have remembered this particular dress. It was made of a peach-coloured gauzy material trimmed with matching satin, embroidered with tiny white blossoms and green leaves, and it was draped rather than cinched. Cassandra knew enough to be aware that this was a style Antivan ladies would wear at home, among family and close friends, while the more structured clothing Josephine normally appeared in was customary for Antivan women in professional or formal spaces. The gown exposed Josephine’s arms from wrist to elbow, and was cut… _generously_ low about the neckline. Her hair was in a looser knot than Cassandra had seen during their daytime interactions, and gold jewellery adorned her throat and wrist. Cassandra was intensely glad she had decided to bathe and wear her nicer clothing.

The gold bracelet caught the firelight as Josephine gestured, laughing as she recounted a story of one of the Montilyet cousins letting loose a boxful of small birds inside the family estate house during a Wintersend gathering (Cassandra was unclear on how the birds had gotten into the box in the first place). Her smile, once again, was radiant. Cassandra could not help but smile back. Josephine was like a spirit of happiness in human form, glowing and beautiful, her voice full of affection and mirth.

Josephine’s story had come to an end without Cassandra entirely realizing it. She had been gazing at Josephine’s face while silence stretched between them for several seconds before she became quite aware of it. Then, suddenly, she was _very_ aware of everything, of the silence, of how close she had somehow moved to Josephine, of how they seemed to be leaning in toward one another, of the swell of Josephine’s breasts beneath the fabric of her gown and the heat that seemed to radiate from her skin and the faint and tantalizing scent of her perfume….

At Cassandra’s sudden intake of breath, Josephine leaned back and smiled serenely. “We seem to have finished the wine. Perhaps now would be a good time to have dessert, and open that lovely bottle you brought.”

“Yes,” Cassandra agreed, her head spinning. She watched Josephine rise and walk to the table. The swishing fabric of her gown moved in fascinating ways over Josephine’s hips. Somehow she had never noticed Josephine’s hips before. Now she could barely take her gaze away in time to meet Josephine’s eyes as she turned back to where Cassandra sat.

“I do hope you don’t mind,” Josephine said, “I was only able to order a simple dessert. However, I believe it will pair nicely with the wine you have brought.”

“That sounds… very good.”

“It’s been years since I’ve had eiswein. I’m afraid it’s not very fashionable in Orlais, and Antiva has its own sweet wines so eiswein is hardly ever imported.” Josephine returned to the settee with a small platter of tarts, two small glasses, and the bottle tucked under her arm. She sat (close, oh, so close that her knee was pressed against Cassandra’s), opened the wine with a clever little wine key she kept somewhere on her person, and poured two glasses of the tawny liquid, handing one to Cassandra. Their fingers brushed as Cassandra took the glass (and Josephine’s skin was, indeed, as soft and warm as she remembered).

Josephine sipped from her own glass, closing her eyes in pleasure. “Ah, this is lovely! Eiswein has such a silky, luscious texture, I find. Enough that its sweetness is not cloying.”

“Yes,” Cassandra replied, sipping her own wine and casting about for a more eloquent reply. She felt as though the conversational part of her mind was floundering even more than usual. She tried to recollect how much wine she had had in the last few hours.

“Now, these tarts are simple, but I do hope you like them. I was able to buy a jar of lemon curd from one of the Fereldan merchants, and I had one of the cooks make it into tarts. I do so love lemons. We had the most beautiful lemon trees at home… ach, but I digress. Here, you must try one!” Josephine plucked one of the tiny tarts from the plate, and held it toward Cassandra.

Cassandra wrestled with herself: obviously, she should take the tart with her own fingers. Obviously. Because opening her lips, inviting Josephine to place the tart into her mouth, feeling Josephine’s fingers on her lips, was a self-evidently bad idea, it was completely ridiculous and inappropriate and — 

And Cassandra was opening her mouth, and leaning forward ever so slightly, and Josephine’s eyes widened and a slight smile quirked her lips, and somehow it was not ridiculous or inappropriate. Josephine held the tart in one hand, the other hand cupped underneath to catch crumbs. Her fingers brushed Cassandra’s lips as she placed the tart in her mouth.

The tart was lovely. Flaky pasty holding tangy, creamy lemon curd. But oh, oh, oh, her lips, moving of their own accord, closed around the tips of Josephine’s fingers. Her fingers were soft and warm and Cassandra found herself wanting to pull them further into her mouth.

But: no. Absolutely not. That would be an obscenely intimate act, and Cassandra had only been courting Josephine for scant days! The very idea was scandalous, was insulting to Josephine’s position. No.

Cassandra pulled back, her face burning, grateful that at least the mouthful of tart made a perfectly valid excuse for her being unable to form words. She glanced at Josephine.

Josephine’s eyes were wide, her face flushed, but she did not look scandalized or insulted. The hand that had been cupped to catch any stray crumbs came up under Cassandra’s chin. She felt soft fingers caress her face, right at the corner of her mouth. Not breaking eye contact, Josephine brought those fingers to her own mouth, licking away whatever invisible crumb she had brushed from Cassandra’s lips. She gave a slow smile, eyebrows raised. “Well? Do you like it?”

Struggling to swallow, struggling to even begin to contemplate forming words, struggling to focus on anything besides the image of Josephine’s pink tongue darting out between her lips, Cassandra merely nodded.

Josephine’s smile widened. “Oh, good! I have such a weakness for lemon curd, and I knew the cooks would be able to make wonderful tarts.” She selected another tart from the tray and ate it, closing her eyes and humming in enjoyment, then licked her fingers. Cassandra stared. “Absolutely delicious! I shall have to see if that merchant will bring back more jars next time. Now, if we could only get fresh lemons, or better yet, proper citrons…”

Cassandra did not entirely recover her conversational skills that evening, but Josephine did not seem to mind. She talked about various desserts, confections, and drinks she enjoyed, both Antivan and Orlesian, in between sips of wine and bites of lemon tart. Cassandra ate and drank, and was frequently embarrassed when she was sure she had been caught staring at Josephine’s mouth, or her fingers, or her neckline. She did listen to Josephine, though, and noted with quiet happiness that Josephine spoke wistfully of taking Antiva Oro tea with her grandmother and aunts — “Brewed very strong, but with lots of sugar and milk” — and reflected on how pleased Josephine would be tomorrow when Cassandra planned to make her a fresh pot mid-morning.

Eventually, the tarts were gone and the eiswein bottle was empty. Despite the late hour and the many many glasses of wine she had consumed, Cassandra began to feel her nerves hum with tension. She would have to take her leave very soon. Was she expected to… to _kiss_ Josephine? That was what one did during courtship. A kiss goodnight. But… should she kiss Josephine’s mouth? That seemed excessively forward, but perhaps that was only because Cassandra was reluctant. Although… _was_ she reluctant? Was this really something she did not want, something she wished to avoid? After all, she had been looking at Josephine’s mouth for a good portion of the evening, and she was not looking out of disgust. Still, the idea of kissing Josephine on the lips was terrifying, and on those grounds alone should probably not be attempted… not yet.

But what then? A kiss on the hand seemed overly maidenish, with none of the passion that should by rights be part of a proper courtship. Perhaps a kiss on the cheek? Yes, yes, that seemed like a good idea. It was still terrifying — what if Cassandra was wrong about this, what if Josephine was horrified at being kissed at all, what if Josephine was insulted by _not_ being kissed on the lips? — but it felt like a sound decision. And besides… Cassandra found that she was not at all adverse to the idea of taking Josephine’s hands in hers, pulling her close, smelling her sweet perfume, pressing her lips to her smooth cheek…. Cassandra was astonished to be thinking such things, and wondered momentarily whether it was because of the wine or because of her affinity for romantic tales or because she was truly attracted to Josephine.

But then Josephine was rising from the settee and remarking about the lateness of the hour, and suddenly it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter why Cassandra wished to be close to Josephine. But she did, oh, she did. Her heart was pounding in her chest as though she were facing down a rampaging dragon. She rose unsteadily to her feet and followed Josephine to where she stood by the door to the hallway.

“Well,” Josephine said, smiling. “This was an extremely pleasant evening. Thank you for the eiswein. And the flowers.”

“Of course,” Cassandra replied. She managed to keep her voice steady, and hoped fervently that her hands were not shaking.

“I suppose we shall have to try to spend time together quite a bit,” Josephine remarked, not sounding at all distressed, “given our… situation.”

“I very much look forward to it,” Cassandra said. Then stepped closer to Josephine, who did not back away, but merely looked up into Cassandra’s eyes. Utterly terrified, beyond embarrassment, Cassandra reached out and took both of Josephine’s hands in her own. Then slowly, very very slowly, so that Josephine could turn away if she wanted, Cassandra leaned in and brushed her lips against Josephine’s cheek. 

It was nearly overwhelming. Josephine’s skin was so soft, so soft and warm, warm hands and her beautiful velvety cheek. Cassandra was exquisitely aware of Josephine’s body, of how standing this close she could feel Josephine’s breasts against her chest. How Josephine’s breath fluttered against her ear. She felt Josephine’s fingers gently tighten on hers, felt her cheek swell under her lips as Josephine smiled. Reluctantly, Cassandra pulled back.

Josephine was smiling that wide, radiant smile. She was so very beautiful, Cassandra thought, and then thought, why not say so? Why be shy to say it to a woman she was to wed, to a woman she had just kissed?

“You are so beautiful,” she told Josephine, her voice low and warm. 

“Oh! Oh my,” Josephine said. She flushed a brilliant crimson and glanced down, still smiling widely. “I… thank you.” Cassandra could not help but smile. It was so odd that she should feel this happy.

“Tomorrow,” Cassandra said, “I would like to bring you tea. In the morning. May I?”

“Yes, thank you. That would be lovely.”

“And… tomorrow evening…”

Here, Josephine’s smile wavered. “Ach, I am sorry, but I really will not be able to escape tomorrow’s dinner. It will be the Contesse Volanges’s last evening at Skyhold and… well. Believe me, I will be glad to see her go, but this means one last dinner to see her off, and so….”

“Perhaps… perhaps after dinner has concluded, you would join me. For something to drink. My quarters are not… but I do have places to sit, and with some candles, it would be quite…” _romantic_ “…pleasant,” Cassandra finished.

“Oh, yes, please. After an evening spent entertaining Her Grace, I will be very ready for more relaxing company, I assure you.”

Cassandra smiled. Impulsively, she raised Josephine’s hands to her lips and pressed kisses to her smooth knuckles, left and right, then released her hands and stepped back. “Until tomorrow morning, then.” She opened the door.

“Yes,” Josephine said, smiling happily. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love these two nerds so much and want them to be happy.


	8. Tea Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra brings Josephine tea. It goes better than the last time.

The next morning, Cassandra veered between misery and elation so frequently she felt dizzy. Although that may also have been the mild hangover she had from the copious amounts of wine she had drunk last night. 

She could not stop thinking about the previous evening. She would be thinking that the night had been very enjoyable, and then she would remember how beautiful Josephine had looked, and then she would remember telling her so and kissing her cheek and her hands, and her heart would soar with something like joy. Then, almost immediately, she would start thinking that she herself had probably looked rough and uncouth by comparison, that Josephine deserved better, that she quite certainly hadn’t enjoyed Cassandra’s company or her awkward conversation, and then Cassandra would be utterly mortified that she had been so ridiculous and forward with Josephine. What had she been thinking? She was a fool.

But then she would remember Josephine’s voice as she talked, and her smile, and the way her warm fingers had pressed tenderly on Cassandra’s hands, and Cassandra would be confused and not at all sure what to think or feel. Not even her morning devotions brought her much peace.

She also veered between anticipation and dread regarding her mid-morning appointment with Josephine. She thought to distract herself with some exercise, but as she was stretching in the yard, Leliana found her. 

Cassandra braced herself for another lecture. But Leliana was smiling. “I’m very impressed, Cassandra,” she said companionably. “Impressed and pleased. You must be taking this seriously.”

“Leliana…” Cassandra growled. She did _not_ wish to discuss this.

Leliana held out her hands in a conciliatory gesture. “You should be glad, Cassandra! You must have been very charming last night. Josephine is practically walking on air.”

Cassandra felt her face redden. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she ground out.

“No?” Leliana’s smile was infuriating. “Well, you will see for yourself soon enough.”

Cassandra shook her head at Leliana’s retreating figure. Damn that woman’s meddling! Well. Perhaps it was for the best. Upon reflection, she would not have time to exercise, wash, and prepare tea before she was expected in Josephine’s study. And now she was feeling irritable on top of being confused and mildly hungover.

She made her way back to her quarters and managed to read a chapter from one of her favourite novels despite the daytime noise of the smithy. This helped her calm down a little, but as soon as she set the book aside, her worries crept back. Perhaps Josephine seemed so happy to Leliana because she felt Cassandra was ridiculous, and she was laughing at her? No, that was not likely. But still, she was about to meet with Josephine again, without wine or good food or fine clothing, and she would have to continue to somehow court her. 

At least Cassandra had the special tea, and she could bring something nice to eat. Rather than begging some baking from the kitchen, Cassandra unearthed a package of Nevarran fruitcake in her quarters. She hadn’t cared for fruitcake in her younger days, but she found that the older she got, the more she appreciated it. This may have been simple nostalgia, but it was also a practical taste to acquire — the cake would stay sound for years and years. Unsurprising, given that it was perhaps nine tenths rum by weight. Cassandra carefully cut two small slices and wrapped them in clean handkerchiefs.

The fruitcake slices went into a satchel along with a stoppered bottle of milk, some lumps of sugar, and a small muslin pouch containing enough Antiva Oro tea to make a strong potful. Cassandra set out for Josephine’s study.

Josephine was at her desk as usual, and looked startled when Cassandra appeared in front of her. “Cassandra! Good morning!”

“Good morning, Lady Josephine,” Cassandra said. Josephine was looking at her uncertainly. “Ah, I have brought things for tea.”

“Oh! Yes, of course. Goodness, what time is it?” Josephine glanced out the window. “Dear me, I’m afraid the morning has quite gotten away from me. No, please, I _do_ wish to take tea with you — I simply need to finish up a few things first.”

“Then I will get everything ready. Please, take your time.” Cassandra retrieved a kettle, pot, and teacups from the shelves behind Josephine’s desk, then busied herself at the fireplace.

By the time Josephine pulled herself away from her desk and instructed the guard in the hallways to forestall both visitors and attachés except for emergencies, Cassandra had brewed a pot of Antiva Oro tea — very strong — and set out milk and sugar, as well as the slices of fruitcake laid out on the linen handkerchiefs. It was far from formal, but Cassandra hoped that it would please Josephine nonetheless.

Cassandra was not a subtle woman, nor was she adept at concealing her emotions. So she was unable to keep a small smile off her face as Josephine sat in the chair beside hers, and she handed Josephine her teacup — milk and sugar added — with more of a flourish than was entirely necessary. She watched intently as Josephine took a sip. 

Josephine’s eyes widened. “Cassandra! Is this what I think it is?” She took another sip. “Oh, how wonderful. I don’t think there is anything else in the world like a proper cup of Antiva Oro tea. I do not believe I have ever come across it outside of Antiva, though. How…?”

“I was lucky enough to find a merchant who had some to sell,” Cassandra replied. She took a experimental sip of her own cup. She would never say as much, but she was rather baffled at Josephine’s obvious preference for this tea, and even moreso at her ability to discern the variety with a single sip. Cassandra could not have differentiated between this and the usual breakfast tea that was ubiquitous in most of Ferelden. Josephine’s obvious pleasure was very gratifying, though, so Cassandra was not about to question her taste.

“How splendid. I had no idea that you also liked this tea — as I said, it’s not something one finds much of outside of Antiva.”

“This is the first time I’ve had it.”

Josephine blinked slowly. “Oh,” she said softly, “I see.” She smiled at Cassandra so sweetly that Cassandra became flustered and tried to hide it by taking another sip of tea. “Well, then. I see you also brought sweets?”

“Yes,” Cassandra said, grateful for the distraction. She set down her cup. “This is fruitcake — it is a Nevarran style, though I imagine similar confections are made elsewhere.” She handed a slice to Josephine. “It is… not to everyone’s taste. I hope you like it.”

Josephine took a cautious bite. Her eyebrows shot up. “My goodness! I suppose it is a good thing I enjoy rum.”

“Yes, well. My aunt used to say that her family recipe for fruitcake is to start with a case of good rum. Then let it harden. Slice and serve.”

Josephine giggled. “Oh my! We do, in fact, have a similar recipe in Antiva, although ours is… more cake, less fruit. Brandy instead of rum, and rather less of it. No molasses. And we really only have it for Wintersend.” She took another sip of tea, closing her eyes in pleasure. “I truly cannot believe that you found Antiva Oro tea at Skyhold! Did you know that it’s not a single-origin tea, but rather a blend of…”

Josephine went on for some time about the tea, segueing into a discussion of the general difficulty in acquiring goods at Skyhold, including some ongoing arbitrations with a merchants’ guild in Orlais that was apparently causing Josephine much grief. Cassandra ate and drank, and refilled Josephine’s cup, and mostly listened. Somehow, Josephine managed to make even trade negotiations sound interesting and engaging. 

Eventually, Josephine set down her empty teacup. “Oh goodness, have we been here an hour already?” 

“It went by so quickly, I didn’t even notice,” Cassandra said truthfully.

“You are far too polite. I didn’t intend to go on for so long. You must think me quite the chatterbox.”

Cassandra blinked. Did Josephine really think she had not enjoyed the last hour? “Spending time with such … such an engaging woman is never unpleasant, Lady Josephine.”

“Goodness!” Josephine smiled and looked away. “I’m… well, I’m glad I haven’t wasted your morning.”

“Certainly not. I…” Cassandra hesitated, glancing at Josephine’s hands where they lay folded in her lap. But no: boldness was needed. She reached out and took Josephine’s closest hand between both of her own. “I would happily spend the entire morning… the entire day, talking with you.” Josephine smiled at her, and gave a slow blink that somehow set Cassandra’s heart thudding.

Josephine gave her fingers a small squeeze. “That would be wonderful,” Josephine said, wistfully. “But alas, I have already been away from my desk longer than I intended.”

Cassandra reluctantly took her leave. Josephine clearly had much to do, and despite their current situation, it would behoove Cassandra to accomplish at least a few tasks over the course of the day. She reminded Josephine of her promise to join Cassandra after tonight’s dinner.

“Of course, I shall be there! Believe me, looking forward to seeing you will be the only thing sustaining me through a tedious evening with Contesse Volanges.” Josephine smiled at her again, and reached out to clasp Cassandra’s free hand with both of hers. Cassandra thought again how impossibly soft and delicate Josephine’s hands were, and how rough and calloused her own hand must feel. Again, Josephine did not seem to mind — she stroked her fingers lightly against Cassandra’s palm. Despite the heat of her fingers, the gesture sent pleasant chills all along Cassandra’s body.

“Thank you again for the tea,” Josephine said softly. “You are so very thoughtful and kind.” She sighed, relinquishing Cassandra’s hand. “I must get back to my work, I’m afraid. I’ve _so_ much to do today. But since I am to have the pleasure of your company twice in one day, I cannot complain _too_ much.” Josephine gave one final smile, looking up at Cassandra from beneath lowered lashes. Cassandra’s heart staggered.

Then the moment passed. Cassandra left the study extraordinarily pleased. None of this morning had especially resembled the courtships in her novels. It had been quiet and companionable, and _easy_. She found herself looking forward to the evening, to talking with Josephine again, and — if she was being quite honest — to making Josephine smile, to holding her hands, to… perhaps… another kiss….

Cassandra was abruptly glad the hallway was deserted as she flushed, shook her head to clear it, and increased her pace. What madness this was!


	9. Apple Brandy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apple brandy and kissing.

Cassandra, determined to keep her mind away from… certain distracting thoughts, spent the afternoon training with the Chargers in the yard. She sparred with Krem and with Skinner, and rolled her eyes at Bull’s more lascivious comments. It was good to get out and _move_ after a morning of relative inactivity. 

This culminated in an invitation to join them at the Herald’s Rest, which Cassandra accepted. She ate with them, but stuck to drinking small ale, not wanting a repeat of this morning’s hangover, especially since she was planning to imbibe later that evening. The Chargers were generally good company, exuberant and friendly, and as they did not expect Cassandra to participate extensively in their conversation, she found them more than tolerable.

Cassandra excused herself early, not wishing to stay in case Varric showed up to tease her some more. Before she left, she bought a plate with some cheese, pickle, and bread — she did not want to be empty-handed in case Josephine was hungry. In her quarters, she lit a fire in the brazier, tidied, and set out the things for drinks with Josephine (candles, a bottle of aged Calvados, small glasses, the cheeses with utensils). She had changed and washed before eating at the tavern, and briefly debated re-lining her eyes or changing from her casual outfit into something nicer… but no. This was a much less formal rendezvous than dinner had been. She settled on a padded bench near the brazier to read until Josephine arrived.

It was nearly fully dark by the time Josephine came up the stairs to Cassandra’s loft. She did not wear a happy expression, but managed a weak smile at Cassandra as she took the chair Cassandra offered. “Well, that was as unpleasant as I had feared! The Volanges family are… well, they have strong opinions about non-humans, without much experience or intellect to back these opinions. Managing relations between our Inquisitor and the Contesse has been tiring, and I am very sure that Keara is even more wearied from having to deal with her veiled commentary on the Dalish. I believe we will both be exceedingly glad to see her depart tomorrow. Thank you so much!” This last was said in response to the glass of apple brandy Cassandra held out to her. Josephine took a sip. “Oh! Calvados! How lovely!”

Cassandra went around lighting and placing candles, trying to brighten up the space. Josephine was recounting the dinner with exasperated agitation. “Then the Contesse tried to make the argument that the Exalted March of the Dales was actually a _good_ thing for the elves. I thought Kaera’s eyes might fall out of her head for rolling so much, and even _I_ was hard-pressed to maintain my composure.” Josephine sighed as Cassandra took the seat opposite hers and poured her own glass of brandy.

Cassandra shook her head. “This woman sounds like every other useless noble I’ve met,” she remarked wryly.

“Surely not all nobility are useless, Cassandra,” Josephine replied, smiling slightly.

“Of course I did not mean — you are one of the most competent and efficient people I have met!” Cassandra said, mortified.

“And you, my dear Cassandra, are far from useless, despite your own noble blood,” Josephine said, smiling widely. “I’m sorry, I should not tease you. I know what you mean. I can assure you that my own feelings on nobility can be quite pointed, especially given that I must deal directly with many of them as a routine part of my Inquisition duties. I sometimes think I would rather face demons and dragons!”

Cassandra’s face was hot. She sipped her apple brandy, wishing she had also put out a pitcher of water. “Well,” she said, “Leliana has told me you used to be a bard. Perhaps we can arm you with daggers and bring you on missions.”

Cassandra had meant it as a light-hearted jest, but Josephine blanched at her words. Cassandra, horrified, was not quite sure what went wrong, and glanced down in confusion. Curse her clumsy tongue!

“Oh, I’m sorry Cassandra, I — it’s just that I am very much not a fighter. Very, _very_ much not so.” Josephine’s voice was subdued, and Cassandra couldn’t quite bring herself to look up yet. She was deeply chagrined. What had she been thinking, suggesting Josephine join them on missions? Now Josephine was offended. Maker, she was an idiot.

Cassandra felt a light touch on the hand that gripped her glass, now white-knuckled. She glanced up. Josephine had reached across the table to stroke her hand comfortingly, and was looking at her with a soft expression. “Please, Cassandra, you said nothing wrong, truly. I am simply not suited for fighting of any kind. Your words… well, they touched a nerve. You could not have known.” Josephine took a breath. It was not entirely steady. “I suppose… I suppose that if we are… that you ought to know…”

Cassandra moved her glass aside and took Josephine’s hand with both of hers. “You need not tell me anything at all,” she said, adamant. “Not if it makes you uncomfortable, or if it is something you do not wish me to know. Even with this — this arrangement we are to be in, you are you own person. You are allowed to have private parts of your life.”

Josephine gave a wan smile. “You are so very thoughtful. But this is something I think I would like you to know.”

After a large sip of Calvados, Josephine told Cassandra the story of how she became a bard, drawn by the romance and excitement of the courts; of how she was enticed into intrigues; of how an assassination attempt on her patron caused the death of a rival bard. Josephine’s voice shook with the edge of tears and anger as she recounted the outcome.

“It was such a _waste_ , Cassandra! When I took off his mask, I _knew_ him. We’d attended parties together.” She shook her head. “If I’d stopped to reason, if I’d used my voice instead of scuffling like a common thug…” Her features twisted into a sneer. Cassandra was alarmed; she had never seen such an expression on Josephine’s face. Josephine sighed and emptied her glass. “I’ll always wonder who that young man would have grown into,” she said softly.

Cassandra had been holding Josephine’s hand throughout her account. She reluctantly let it go so that she could refill Josephine’s glass. “I have been given to understand,” she said, very carefully, “that it is impossible to play the Game, as bards do, without bloodshed.”

“ _Never_ as a first resort, Cassandra!” Josephine’s eyes bore into hers. “Never in a way that makes currency of lives.”

Cassandra had no response for that, so she sipped her brandy in acute misery. This was all her fault. She was supposed to be courting Josephine, she had invited her for a pleasant drink together after Josephine’s long and trying day, and now she had said the wrong thing and evoked this terrible memory for Josephine, and everything was ruined.

“Cassandra.” Josephine’s voice was warm. Cassandra glanced up to see Josephine giving a rueful half-smile and holding out her hand. Wonderingly, Cassandra reached out to clasp it. “Please do not be troubled. You did not upset me. That is — I am not upset at _you_. It is… it is a difficult memory. But I wanted you to know. I want you to know me, including the unsavoury aspects.”

Cassandra stared. _As if you could have any unsavoury aspects_ was her first thought. _You did absolutely nothing wrong_ was her second thought. _I will do everything I can to protect you from all violence, for as long as I can_ was her third thought. What she said was, “I am very honoured that you would trust me with this. Thank you.”

Josephine gave her fingers a squeeze, then pulled them away, leaving Cassandra feeling bereft. “I have often thought that I could trust you with anything,” Josephine said. “But come. Let us talk of other things. I understand that Sera has developed a most amusing and, I daresay, accurate impression of Contesse Volanges, the performance of which includes carrying a large stuffed doll made to look like that scribe that is always at her side….”

With that, the unpleasantness passed, although Cassandra had certainly not forgotten it. She knew from her days at the war table that Josephine was a dyed-in-the-wool pacifist, always suggesting bloodless solutions to the Inquisition’s concerns, and resisting anything involving violence or death. There was no avoiding bloodshed entirely — even Josephine had had assassins at her throat — but still, Cassandra would know not to make offhand remarks about violence, especially not referring specifically to Josephine herself.

Josephine seemed to be in a very good mood, considering what had come before. They chatted about inconsequential things and shared gossip, while the cheese and pickle slowly disappeared and the level of Calvados in the bottle decreased in increments. Eventually several of the candles began guttering, and Josephine fought a yawn. “Goodness! I’m sorry — ”

“Not at all,” said Cassandra. “It has been a long day for you, fraught with difficulties. Of course you are tired.”

“Indeed. I suppose… we ought to make plans for tomorrow as well. Forgive me for being so terribly forward, but the time we have to get to know one another is so short. And… well… I have no appointments or duties tomorrow afternoon.”

Cassandra looked at Josephine in astonishment. “You have the _entire afternoon_ free?”

Josephine sighed. “I know Leliana did it. I just don’t know how. Usually my time is so carefully scheduled, especially during the afternoons, and somehow my schedule just…. cleared itself.” She looked at Cassandra. “I suspect you will find yourself similarly free of duties.”

“My days in Skyhold are frequently… unscheduled. I have tasks to accomplish, of course, and my drills and research, but…”

“Indeed.” Josephine quirked her mouth in a small smile. “I have a few meetings and some paperwork in the morning, and another evening engagement — the contingent from Ferelden this time, much less onerous, but my presence will be most necessary, I’m afraid.”

“Still… an entire afternoon.” Cassandra looked at Josephine. “What shall we do?” They could always sit and talk in the quarters of one or the other, over food and drink, but this would likely become tedious soon.

Josephine smiled and shot Cassandra a mischievous glance. “I understand the weather will be very mild tomorrow. One can never know for certain in the mountains, of course, but…. Perhaps a short ride, and a walk out-of-doors, and an afternoon picnic? I know from the scouts’ reports that there is a very pleasant, sheltered glen about thirty minutes’ ride to the northwest, well away from all the roads. And I understand that this entire valley is imbued with some ancient elven magic that keeps it free of predators. We would be able to entirely relax and… enjoy ourselves.”

Something about that way Josephine had said that made Cassandra’s heart flutter with delight.

Josephine went on. “I’m reasonably sure I can requisition a horse big enough to carry both of us — I know you are not fond of riding, but it really is too far for us to walk and still have a pleasant afternoon visit. If you wouldn’t mind putting together a lunch for us…”

“Yes, if you like.”

Josephine smiled. “How splendid!” She stifled another yawn. “Oh, dear, I think I really must be going.”

Without really thinking, Cassandra rose and offered her arm. “I will walk you back to your quarters,” she said.

Josephine’s eyes widened. “But… we might be seen together.”

Cassandra blinked. “Does that bother you?”

“Not in the least. But I would have assumed that you… that you would be embarrassed to be seen with…” Josephine trailed off, and glanced down.

It was appalling that Josephine would believe that Cassandra was ashamed to be seen with her. Though in all likelihood, her behaviour when the sealed marriage was first proposed likely did not create the impression that Cassandra would be eager to flaunt their relationship. And in truth, Cassandra valued her privacy, and disliked being the object of impertinent scrutiny. 

Yet, it was inevitable that their courtship and marriage would come out sooner or later, and there was little enough to be gained by running around as though they were adulterers hiding a scandalous affair. And Cassandra found… she found she wished to reassure Josephine that this was truly a relationship she wanted.

Cassandra touched Josephine’s shoulder lightly. “Come,” she said gently. “Let me walk you to your quarters.” Something in Josephine’s face relaxed. She nodded, and stood in such a way that Cassandra’s hand ran along the length of Josephine’s arm until Josephine’s hand rested in Cassandra’s. 

Cassandra’s breath juddered out of rhythm. Josephine was wearing her usual professional clothing, structured and tailored and layered. This had, Cassandra knew, made it rather easier for her to speak to Josephine tonight without her eyes wandering in inappropriate ways. But as Josephine stood, allowing Cassandra’s fingers to drift along her arm, Cassandra could feel the warmth of Josephine’s skin beneath the fabric, could trace the soft, smooth curves of her arm, so exquisitely different from the arms of warriors and fighters that Cassandra usually had cause to contact, and then her delicate fingers resting in Cassandra’s hand.

Cassandra inhaled carefully, steadying herself, and closed her eyes. Then opened them to see Josephine looking at her. Cassandra was once again struck by her loveliness, the elegance of her expression, the dignified grace of her features. She felt an involuntary smile tugging at her mouth. She pulled Josephine’s hand to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to her fingers, then straightened and tucked Josephine’s hand in the crook of her elbow.

***

They walked in companionable silence toward the doors to the throne room. As soon as they were through the doors, Cassandra’s mood chilled rapidly — Varric was in his accustomed seat by one of the large fireplaces. Of course he was.

There would be no escaping his notice. Cassandra braced herself for whatever remark he would no doubt make.

“Ruffles!” the dwarf exclaimed when he caught sight of Josephine. “How are you you? …And Seeker Cassandra.” He sounded surprised to see Cassandra at Josephine’s side.

“I am well, thank you, Master Tethras. Forgive me for not staying to chat; I’m afraid I’m rather tired out after today.”

“Yeah, I heard about that Volanges woman. What a piece of work. Rest well, then.”

“Thank you.”

Cassandra merely nodded as they passed; Varric nodded back.

Cassandra and Josephine settled back into easy silence as they crossed the throne room to the hallway entrances. It was… perhaps not surprising that Varric did not needle her when she was clearly accompanying Josephine. He seemed fond of Josephine, and would not wish to upset her. Well. Perhaps Cassandra’s association with Josephine would have yet another benefit.

The hallway to Josephine’s quarters in the turret was quiet. They stopped outside her door. Without removing her hand from Cassandra’s arm, Josephine turned toward her and smiled. “Well, then. Thank you once again for a very pleasant evening.”

“You are quite welcome.”

“I look forward to tomorrow afternoon.”

“As do I.”

There was an expectant pause. Cassandra turned further in toward Josephine and put her free hand on Josephine’s shoulder. They were standing very, very close together. Cassandra could clearly see a torch reflected, in miniature, in Josephine’s eyes. Cassandra’s chest felt as though it were filled with something fluttering and sparkling, as though a nest of lightning-spitting Vinsomer dragonlings had taken up residence within her ribs, only… it was a pleasant sensation, though unnerving.

Cassandra leaned in to kiss Josephine’s cheek. Josephine moved at the same time on a slightly different angle, and they both froze, hesitating. Cassandra felt the energy between them bend, felt an expectation or a wish make itself known, and wasn’t sure whether it was hers or Josephine’s. They stood together like that, eyes locked, breathing, breathing, breathing.

Cassandra, beyond rational thinking, darted a glance at Josephine’s lips. Leaned forward once more. Josephine, tipping her face back and stretching her neck, met her lips with her own. Cassandra’s arms circled around Josephine’s shoulders, holding her gentle and close like the precious thing she was.

Their lips moved together, slowly, tenderly. Josephine’s hands came up, resting just below Cassandra’s collarbone. Cassandra felt sure that Josephine would feel her heart, beating heavy and fast. Josephine’s lips were supple and incredibly soft. Kissing her like this sent ripples of happiness through Cassandra’s body. How extraordinary, how wonderful this was.

Then Josephine’s body curled into hers, pressing even closer. Her hands slid up Cassandra’s chest to cup her face. And her tongue, hot and silky, flitted out to touch Cassandra’s lips. And all at once, in a great roaring rush, the happy, light sparkles in Cassandra’s chest abruptly metamorphosed into consuming flames, and Cassandra was lost.

How long they stood together in the hallway, kissing with a depth of intensity and passion that stole Cassandra’s breath away, she was not certain. It was intensely pleasurable, sending her mind and body reeling with delight, delight in this marvellous and lovely woman in her arms.

At some point, she became aware that she was holding Josephine very, very tightly, and might be hurting her; with a gasp, she broke off the kiss and loosened her grip. She looked at Josephine dazedly. Josephine gazed back with eyes gone wide and dark.

They stood again for a moment, breathing, breathing, breathing, breathing.

Then Josephine smiled warmly, pulled Cassandra’s face close for one more soft, closed-mouth kiss, and stood back, holding both of Cassandra’s hands in her own.

“Good night,” she said, her voice low.

Cassandra blinked, tried to get her breathing back in order. “Good night,” she replied weakly.

Then Josephine pulled her hands away — Cassandra felt their loss acutely — turned, and went through the door, pulling it gently shut behind her.

Cassandra stood there for several seconds. It was as though she had been stunned by an unexpected blow to the head. As though she could not move, could not think.

Then she managed to take a deep breath and collect her thoughts. That had been… astonishing. And astonishingly good. Cassandra felt a smile fight its way onto her face. Yes, it had been exceedingly, unbelievably good.

Well. Cassandra continued on the stairs past Josephine’s door. After the assassination scare, she had learned many of the lesser-known passageways through Skyhold (especially those close to Josephine’s haunts), and knew of one that would eventually get her back to the yard without passing through the throne room. She was very certain that if Varric was still there, he would somehow read something in her face or body no matter how she tried to act normally, and then he would tease her about it.

But, for now, passing through deserted and seldom-used hallways and staircases, she could let herself smile, let her steps be light and joyful, as though she were skipping through stars.


	10. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra gets an idea.

Cassandra’s good mood persisted through the night, for she woke up in high spirits. The day promised to be mild, which boded well for her afternoon plans. She would perform her devotions, do her exercises, collect a picnic lunch, and meet Josephine in the yard. She was looking forward to all of it.

She was most of the way through her drills when Leliana found her. Wisely, Leliana allowed Cassandra to finish the set she was working on, lingering behind the practice dummies, before approaching Cassandra.

Cassandra found she couldn’t even summon a scowl at the interruption. “Good morning, Leliana. What can I do for you?”

Leliana’s eyebrows rose. “It sounds like Josephine is not the only one in a good mood this morning.”

Cassandra blushed hotly at that, but felt only mild annoyance. It was… very gratifying to hear that Josephine was also in a good mood. “I am glad to hear Josephine is well,” she said, feeling awkward.

“I had a word with her over her paperwork this morning. I understand the two of you had a most enjoyable evening yesterday.”

Cassandra felt her face get even hotter. “Yes. It was very pleasant.”

“Good!” Leliana was smiling slyly now. “And you are to spend the afternoon together.”

“As you are well aware.”

“Come now, I’m sure you agree that it is best for you to spend a significant amount of time with her before the… main event, as it were? And so of course I pulled a few strings to make sure of this.”

Cassandra snorted. “I’m sure that was an amusing exercise for you.”

“Yes, especially since Josephine’s schedule was unexpectedly the easier one to clear.”

“Really?” That was genuinely surprising.

“It’s true. Josephine has her attachés to help with many of her duties, but… well, I had a difficult time convincing Cullen that you could not be present to run the recruits through their drills.”

“Cullen — ” Cassandra looked up sharply. If Cullen needed her assistance, it may be that he was ill with his withdrawal, and Cassandra had a duty to — 

“Be easy, Cassandra. Cullen is a little unwell, but mostly only tired — it will pass. He has asked Kaera to deal with the recruits instead, and she has agreed.”

Ah. So Leliana knew about Cullen’s situation; of course she did. Still, Cassandra was worried. “If you’re sure…” she said uncertainly.

“I am convinced that everything is well in hand. You will not be missed at the recruits’ exercises, not with the Inquisitor herself taking over in your stead.”

“No,” said Cassandra slowly, thinking. “Not missed. But my absence would be noted. Kaera has never stepped in to train recruits. It has always been Cullen or myself.”

“…Yes, that’s a possibility. But there is little to be done about that, unless you wish your situation to be more widely known.”

Cassandra blinked. She remembered last night, walking arm in arm past Varric, and how… painless his observation of them had been. “Actually,” she said slowly, “that might not be a terrible idea.”

Cassandra had very seldom seen Leliana look truly shocked. This was one of those times. Her jaw dropped and her eyebrows came together in consternation. “…Is that a joke?” she finally asked.

“No,” Cassandra said. “I have been thinking about this myself, and… it will come out sooner or later. Much as I would _like_ to cling to the illusion that this could be kept completely secret… it will come out. And I would prefer to have it come out on _my_ terms rather than it being spread behind my back as though it were some vile slander. Besides,” she added, softly, “I would not have Josephine think that I am ashamed of being attached to her.”

Leliana regarded her appraisingly. “I am truly surprised, Cassandra,” she said. “I would have thought you would stubbornly insist on secrecy, indefinitely. I’m very glad. I completely agree that it is better to control the message. In fact, I will go to Josephine right away and see if she has a bit of time to help me strategize about how to let this news spread in the most advantageous way. No, don’t fret — she will still be meeting you for your luncheon on time. This won’t be an overly complex project,” Leliana murmured thoughtfully. “And I expect the Inquisitor will be able to help as well. Possibly even The Iron Bull. Spies are good at this sort of thing.” Leliana gave a brief smile.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “If we are finished, then, I must fetch food for this afternoon.”

“Don’t let me keep you. And do enjoy yourself this afternoon! After all the trouble I went to to clear your schedules, you owe me that much at least.”

Cassandra first went to the kitchens. It was by then late morning, so food for the midday meal was being prepared but not really served yet. A few coins convinced a scullery maid to allow Cassandra to help herself to two cooling meat-and-potato pastries, two apples, a handful of ginger cookies, and a stoppered flask of the cooled tea mixed with sweet fruit juice that was often available for the midday meal. She borrowed a small tablecloth to wrap it all for the trip.

There was still time before she and Josephine would rendezvous to ride out. Back at her quarters, she washed and changed into clothes that would be suitable for riding, but were not too worn or stained. She packed the lunch into a rucksack along with some handkerchiefs and a small eating knife for the apples, and added a volume of poetry — perhaps it would not be unpleasant to read to Josephine this afternoon….

Knowing she would be leaving Skyhold’s defences, but also that this was meant to be a relaxed and pleasant afternoon, she hesitated at belting on her sword and scabbard. But she did not want to go entirely unarmed. Setting aside her sword, she opened her trunk. Digging through almost to the bottom, she found the dagger she had been looking for. She had never fought with daggers, never even really trained for it. But she was confident she could defend herself and Josephine in a pinch, at least against a few easier foes. They were unlikely to encounter so much as an irritable nug in Skyhold’s valley, but Cassandra would not be comfortable venturing forth unarmed.

Glancing back into the trunk, something at the very bottom caught her eye. She reached in and pulled out a small canvas bag, tied shut. Pulling open the ties, she shook the object within into her open hand. Anthony’s torque. It was the one adornment he had always worn — no fine jewels for him, despite his noble standing, no flashy gold or sparkling gems. Her brother had been too practical for such frippery. But this… Cassandra turned it over in her hands. It was finely made of gold alloyed with copper. The ends were curled into elegant spirals, and the bracelet itself was made to look like the metal had been densely braided. It was not overly wide, though the quality of the metal gave it a pleasing weight. At its centre was a space where a stone might be set. When Anthony had been alive, it had contained a carved onyx the colour of caramel, with the Pentaghast emblem of the crowned skull and rose.

Cassandra had been given the torque after Anthony’s death. At first, she had not wanted to touch it — he had been wearing it when he had been cut down. It had been tucked away among her other belongings, ignored. Some years later, in a fit of rage, Cassandra had smashed the stone, symbolically obliterating her family connections. But she had kept the torque among her belongings, and had not lost it nor given it up during her years of training. It was her one remaining memento of Anthony.

Examining the bracelet, she observed it was still in good shape. The setting for the stone was somewhat dented, but….

Cassandra had a sudden idea that immediately seemed so perfect that she wished to act on it without delay. She had enough time before meeting Josephine, she was sure. Digging again through her trunk, she pulled out a small box — one of the few other items from her childhood that she had kept — checked its contents, then snapped it shut with a satisfied smile. 

Taking the torque and the box, she set off at a brisk pace for the undercroft. 

Cassandra found Dagna at a worktable, peering through a bench magnifier at some artefact Cassandra could not identify.

“Seeker Cassandra! So nice to see you!” Dagna said, smiling, as she set aside her work and turned to Cassandra. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a rune,” Cassandra said.

“Great! I can do that! Where’s your sword?”

Cassandra glanced around. Harritt was nowhere to be seen; they were alone. “I need it for… something personal. Not a weapon.”

Dagna nodded, though her expression was mildly perplexed. “Okay. That’s… different.”

“I know. I…” Cassandra took a breath. “I would like to give you a commission. It… it is for an item that is personal, but will ultimately help the Inquisition.” She proffered the torque to Dagna, who took it and scrutinized it while Cassandra went on. “I know you typically make runes for attacking. I would like a rune of… of defence. Of protection. And I would like it to be set in this bracelet.”

Dagna was examining the torque. “This is really nice workmanship! It’s a good alloy, high quality gold. No magic in it at all, though. And you’d like a protection rune set in it?”

“Yes. Can you do such a thing?”

“Oh, yes! I mean, in theory. As you say, runes are for augmenting the magical attack power of weapons. But making one for protection, to provide a guard on the wearer, and setting it in an inert bracelet… that would be so _interesting_.”

Cassandra looked slightly askance at Dagna. When the arcanist found things “interesting,” it usually could be read as “horribly dangerous” or “catastrophically unstable” or “violently explosive.”

“I bet I could put together a really nice rune of guarding. And this thing is almost the perfect size…” Dagna glanced up. “What is this for, anyway?”

Cassandra drew a breath. Dagna was no gossip — it seemed to Cassandra that she rarely left the undercroft — but it would not do to upset Leliana’s plans for spreading the news about herself and Josephine by actually telling anyone ahead of time. “It is… personal… I’m sorry, Dagna, but may I leave it at that for now?”

“Sure, sure, no problem.” Dagna sounded as though she truly did not care what it was for. She was already examining the torque with an eye loupe. “Have to adjust the prongs for a more spherical shape…”

Cassandra cleared her throat. Dagna looked up. Cassandra held out the box she had brought. “I would like to offer this in trade for the rune and your services,” she said.

“Oh, if it’s for the Inquisition, you don’t need to… oh, _wow_ , are these high dragon pearls?”

Cassandra glanced around again; Dagna had raised her voice in her excitement. But they appeared to still be alone, and the waterfall probably dampened sound here anyway. “Yes,” she replied. “My family were dragon hunters. Part of their fortune has been kept in dragon pearls from past hunts. These three were given to me as gifts, by older family members, when I was a child. I’m afraid they are not… the most exquisite quality of dragon pearl.” She glanced with chagrin into the box. “One is, in fact, chipped. But I believe they are still — ”

“ _Incredible!_ ” Dagna exclaimed. “Do you know how rare these are? They say only one in _four hundred_ high dragons has an intact pearl on its crest. And they’re usually tiny, vestigial things, not worth even harvesting, but these — look at this one, it’s the size of my eye! I haven’t heard of a single usable pearl being recovered… well, in my lifetime, not that I’m exactly in a position to know of anyone other than Inquisition agents looting a pearl, but — sorry, sorry, of course you know what these are. But — Seeker Cassandra, this is too much! I can’t accept these!”

Cassandra waved one hand dismissively. “Yes, you can. They are of little worth to me, except in trade, and I wish to trade them for this.” She looked Dagna in the eye. “This is… very important to me. I want a very, very good rune. The best. And… if you could… make the torque look very nice, and polished, and perhaps size it to a thinner wrist…”

“Of course! Wow! Anything!” Dagna was gazing reverently into the box, the torque seemingly forgotten on the table behind her. “I can’t wait to start testing these, figuring out what I can _make_ with them…”

“Yes, but… Dagna, when can you have the rune made?”

“Um. Are you in a hurry?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Hm. I can usually make a rune in an hour or less, as long as I have the components. This, I might need a day or two, just to figure it out. I’ve never made a guard rune before, but I’m sure I’ll be able to!” Dagna smiled reassuringly.

“Thank you. Truly… the sooner the better.”

At that moment, Cassandra heard, over the din of the waterfall, the bell chime for high noon. She bit back a curse. “I must go; I am late. Please… let me know the moment it is finished.”

“Will do, Seeker! Thank you! I am going to make you the best damn guard rune you can imagine!”

Cassandra barely heard Dagna’s last words as she raced back to the yard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pretty much made up the "dragon pearl" thing so that Cassandra would have something that Dagna would want. I originally had Cassandra offering her gold, which I can't imagine Dagna getting super excited about.
> 
> Also made up: defence runes in DA:I. I'm just making things up all over the darn place!
> 
> *glances sidelong at the pairing this fic is based on*


	11. Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you go down to the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise.

Josephine was by the stables when Cassandra arrived, slightly out of breath. Josephine was conversing with Master Dennet and did not seem at all out of sorts about Cassandra’s tardiness.

“Ah, Cassandra! I hope all is well…?” Josephine asked, smiling, as Cassandra approached them.

“Apologies! I was… on an errand… and I was delayed… I should have…” Cassandra was struggling to both apologize and catch her breath.

“Not to worry. Master Dennet and I will get a mount saddled, while you fetch our lunch.”

Cassandra just nodded, and loped off to her loft. She spent a precious minute trying to make herself presentable — she was a bit sweaty from dashing across the hold, but that couldn’t be helped, and at any rate they were to be on horseback and out-of-doors so hopefully it wouldn’t matter too much. The dagger, in its sheath, went into her boot. Then she grabbed the rucksack and headed back to the stables.

Dennet was holding the reins of a large, sedate mare. Josephine stood next to him, smiling expectantly at Cassandra. She had a rolled horseblanket tucked under one arm. “I took the liberty of helping Master Dennet to select our mount. I hope you approve.”

Cassandra looked dubiously at the horse, who returned the gaze with what Cassandra thought was the same expression.

“Thank you for your help, Master Dennet,” Josephine was saying to the stablemaster.

“Just happy to help you two out,” Dennet replied, in a way that hinted to Cassandra that he _knew_. Apparently, Leliana had already been busy spreading tales.

Josephine turned to her. “I see you have our lunch. Shall we be off?”

They mounted with Josephine in front, at the reins, as she was a more accomplished horsewoman than Cassandra. Josephine wore clothing similar to her day-to-day office attire, which was suitable for riding astride, but in sturdier fabrics than usual. Cassandra sat tucked behind Josephine, wearing the rucksack with the rolled blanket lashed to it. She clung to Josephine’s waist as they set out, leaving Skyhold through one of the smaller side gates near the stables, which Josephine had arranged to have opened and guarded until their return. Fortunately the horse had a steady gait, and there was no need to go faster than a walk, so at least they were not being jostled about.

They were on one of the small trails leading out from Skyhold into the valley, riding in easy silence that gave Cassandra time to take in her surroundings. It was spring, and although there was certainly snow if one ventured much higher up, the valley was already green. Either elven magic or some quirk of the atmosphere sheltered the side of the valley Skyhold was in, and trees, bushes, and hardy mountain grasses thrived outside of Skyhold’s walls. Knowing that they were close to home, and that they were vanishingly unlikely to run into danger of any sort, Cassandra began to relax.

Josephine rode with the easy skill of a woman raised around horses from a young age. Cassandra was less comfortable on horseback, but she felt at ease with Josephine at the reins. Though this brought other thoughts that were… less relaxing. How she could smell Josephine’s hair, and the enchanting scent of her perfume. The way the soft, wide curve of her waist fit into the span of Cassandra’s hands. The press of her hips against Cassandra’s thighs. 

Although the horse’s gait was quite smooth, the slight swinging motion of its walk nevertheless was having a noticeable effect on the movement of both women’s bodies as they were pressed together. Cassandra was keenly aware of the sway of Josephine’s hips between her own thighs. She found her body reacting, _vigorously_. Cassandra fought to keep her breathing even, to keep her hands on Josephine’s waist still, to subdue this sudden and overwhelming uprising of desire.

This was absurd. And completely inappropriate. Cassandra had ridden double dozens of times with no reaction whatsoever. She tried to focus on some breathing exercises that Seekers used as a prelude to meditation. It helped. A little.

Josephine brought them along the trail for perhaps half an hour, then veered off down a path barely visible from the trail. They came at last to a sheltered glen, a small clearing surrounded by high trees. Cassandra heard a stream running nearby.

“Well, here we are!” Josephine said, breaking the silence. They dismounted, and Josephine tethered the mare near the stream where it could drink, and graze on the high grass there. Cassandra busied herself picking rocks and fallen branches off a level patch of ground in the middle of the clearing, then unfurling and arranging the blanket.

“What a lovely spot,” Josephine remarked as she fed the horse a sugar lump from one of her pockets. “The scout report did not do it justice, although of course they were describing it from a tactical point of view rather than aesthetic.”

“If the weather holds, it will be very agreeable,” Cassandra said, lamely. She took the lunch bundle out of the rucksack, but left the book — perhaps it had been a stupid idea to bring it.

“Oh, yes! It is a pleasant day, and we are so sheltered from the wind here. It is so very nice to be surrounded by green and growing things, if only for a little while.” Josephine sighed. “In Antiva, the flowers will have been fully in bloom for a month.”

Cassandra held out a hand to help Josephine lower herself to settle on the blanket. “You must miss your home,” she said tentatively as she started to lay out the lunch things.

“I do, sometimes,” Josephine said pensively. “I have many memories of Antiva City; good memories. I miss my family. I miss the weather. I miss the sea.” Josephine gave a small sigh. “Living in Val Royeaux was also wonderful, in its own way, and I enjoyed my time at court in both Orlais and Antiva.” She shrugged, a graceful rise and fall of shoulders. “I have lived in many places and made memories in all of them. Including with the Inquisition.” She looked at Cassandra. “I may miss things about parts of my past life, but I can never regret joining the Inquisition. I have already made many dear friends here, and many happy memories to counter the difficult times we have faced.”

They were both silent for a short time, helping themselves to the meat pastries, lost in momentary shared thought on Haven, and the myriad smaller losses of life that had visited the Inquisition since its inception.

Cassandra opened the flask of cool sweetened tea, took a sip, and passed it to Josephine. “It is certainly to be expected that you would miss your family.”

“I do. I have not been able to visit them for several years, even before the Inquisition began, although I do write often to my mother and one of my brothers.”

“…Ah.” Cassandra wished she were a better conversationalist. She must seem so dull to Josephine.

But Josephine seemed very happy to carry the bulk of the conversation herself. “I have three brothers. Yannic, the youngest, is still a child. Laurien is the eldest, two years younger than I. He is at university, learning figures and calculations. I believe he wishes to build ships some day.”

“That may be useful to your family trade,” Cassandra said.

“Perhaps. It will depend on how successful I am at rebuilding our connections in shipping,” Josephine said, nonchalant. “Antoine, my next youngest sibling, will, perhaps, follow in my footsteps to work with courts and diplomacy,” she said, pride evident in her voice and features. Cassandra felt a small pang, though whether that was out of sympathy for Laurien (evidently less favoured by Josephine), or at the name, _Antoine_ , so similar to her own brother’s… she quickly tamped down that line of thought. “I wish I had more time to help him build connections and establish himself. But by all accounts, he is doing very well for himself.”

Josephine set her pastry crust aside and dabbed delicately at her lips with a handkerchief. “Now, my sister…” Josephine paused and sighed.

“I…I believe I met your sister, at Halamshiral,” Cassandra ventured.

“Yes. Yvette.” Josephine’s tone was a mix of fondness and exasperation. “She is… very young. Moreso in her outlook than in her years, I’m afraid.”

“She seemed… friendly.”

“Oh dear, I hope she did not pester you too much,” Josephine said fretfully. “I did try to keep an eye on her and rein her in, but, well, we were all so distracted that evening, and even when I am _right there_ she manages to — ”

“No, no, not at all,” Cassandra said. “She was certainly not the most aggravating person I spoke to that evening, by far, I assure you. When I say she was friendly, I mean it. She was quite cordial. She asked me about being a Seeker and expressed her admiration for the order, which was pleasing. That was all.”

Josephine looked at her sceptically. “She did not ask you any… impertinent questions?”

“No. I’m sure I would remember.”

“Well. That is… a little out of character for her.” Josephine gave a rueful smile. “She has aspirations to be an artist. It is a — a less ambitious career than I would prefer to see her pursue, but it makes her happy. Sometimes I think, though, that she has gotten into her head the idea that artists are all radical eccentrics who may get away with speaking exactly as they wish to anyone at all. It will not do her, or our family, any favours at court, I’m afraid. Why, you should have heard the things she said to the Inquisitor… and about _me!_ ”

Cassandra’s mouth quirked. “I believe it is possible that Yvette behaves that way only when you are present, to provoke you, and behaves with more restraint otherwise. She would not be the first younger sibling to do so.”

Josephine glanced at her shrewdly. “Hm. That is entirely possible. I would certainly not understand how she has come as far as she has in courtly circles, nor how well-respected she seems to be, if she were to behave at all times as she does before me.” She sipped from the flask and passed it to Cassandra. “You seem to have insight into these matters. I take it you must have experienced something similar with your own brother?”

And, just like that, Cassandra’s mood tripped over itself and toppled. Her body became rigid all at once. She averted her eyes, tried to hold back the emotions that rose up in her. It was foolish, so foolish, that after all this time, after all her training, she could still be affected by the mention of her brother. Perhaps it was all this talk of siblings and families, or finding Anthony’s torque earlier. She sat, silent, trying to do a breathing exercise and get her emotions under control.

“Oh, I — I am so — Cassandra? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean… I… we can speak of something else. I am so very sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I…” Josephine’s voice trailed off. 

Cassandra breathed in through her nose, silently. Then out, through her lips, smoothly, slowly, so that if a candle were placed before her lips it would not be blown out. In, out. In, out. There.

Cassandra’s shoulders dropped at some point during the exercise. Her body felt fluid once more. Her emotions were no longer in control of her; rather, she was in control of them. She held her sadness, the memory, in her mind, but it was not taking over her mind, not any longer.

She glanced up at Josephine, who looked utterly wretched. She was hunched over, looking away from Cassandra, her face a mask of misery. Cassandra was suddenly aware that she had been ignoring Josephine for long seconds, unspeaking, and that Josephine must think she was angry with her.

“Josephine?” she said tentatively. “It is all right. I am sorry to have distressed you.”

Josephine lifted her eyes but not her head. In that moment she reminded Cassandra of nothing so much as a Mabari pup being scolded for bad behaviour, all big sad eyes and contrite posture. Cassandra abruptly recalled Leliana’s admonition, about Josephine having no defences when… when she cared about someone. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the thought that Josephine was hurting like this, because of her, _again_.

Her own brief agitation forgotten, she shifted over on the blanket, setting aside the lunch things. She took Josephine’s hand in hers, and with the other hand lifted her chin until Josephine was looking at Cassandra. “Please, do not be troubled. I… I was upset, yes. But it was not your fault. And then I was quiet because I was trying to get control of my emotions. Not because I was angry with you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Josephine said softly. “I am still very sorry. I should not have — ”

“You did not know,” Cassandra said simply.

“I should have,” Josephine replied. “I should have known better. I should not have… should not have spoken of that. Can you forgive me?”

Cassandra stared. It was almost inconceivable to her that _Josephine_ should feel as though _she_ had misspoken, that _she_ should be apologizing to _Cassandra_. “There is nothing to forgive,” she said, honestly. “But if there were, you would have my forgiveness. Always.” She rubbed her thumb along Josephine’s jawline, comforting. “One day, we will speak of… of Anthony. But… not yet. Not today. I am sorry.”

Josephine smiled shakily. “Of course. Whenever you are ready, I would love to hear about him.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, titled her head slightly into Cassandra’s hand, opened her eyes again, and looked at Cassandra. “Thank you.” She squeezed Cassandra’s fingers, and her smile widened a tiny bit. Cassandra felt the skin shift under her fingers that still cupped Josephine’s chin. It was as though the sun had emerged from behind a cloud. Cassandra smiled back.

Josephine sat back, took a deep drink from the flask, and passed it to Cassandra who also drank. After she swallowed, they sat in rather awkward silence for a moment. Neither, apparently, knew exactly how to segue into casual, light conversation after the preceding.

“I brought a book of poetry,” Cassandra blurted. “Perhaps I could read some to you.” She cringed. Why in the world had she said that?

“Why that sounds lovely!” Josephine said. “I enjoy poetry very much — the famous Antivan poets, of course, but I have also read from Orlesian and Ferelden poets. Such distinct forms, yet they all manage to speak so profoundly of universal themes — family, growing into adulthood, death… love…. I should very much like to hear you read.”

…Damn. Now Cassandra had no choice. What had she been thinking, bringing the book in the first place? And offering to read out loud? This was a disaster.

“What poet is it that you’ve brought?” Josephine asked, relaxing on the blanket.

Cassandra fetched the volume out of the rucksack where it had been safely hidden out of sight until she had gone and opened her foolish mouth. Reluctantly, she handed the book to Josephine for inspection.

“Oh! García! I used to love her poetry!” Josephine smiled as she paged through the volume. “I always identified with her because she was born in Antiva, but spent much of her adult life in Orlais, among the court there. Did you know that they thought she was male when she was born, and she wasn’t able to live as herself until later in life?”

“…Like Krem?” Cassandra asked, uncertain. Truthfully, she generally knew very little about the authors she read (with one notable, unfortunate exception).

“Very similar, I believe. She was grudgingly accepted among the nobility of Orlais because of how fashionable her poetry became, although I believe that a certain longing for true acceptance, a certain desire to be able to live as one’s true self, comes through in her poetry.” Josephine held out the volume, open, to Cassandra. “This one is a particular favourite of mine. Would you mind reading it to me?”

Cassandra accepted the volume with no small amount of trepidation, and settled down on the blanket to read. Josephine had selected a moderately lengthy lyrical poem in which a land-locked traveler yearns for the ocean. Cassandra began reading out loud, feeling exceedingly awkward. 

But somehow, as she read, the awkwardness lessened. Josephine had settled on her back, gazing up at the sky, as Cassandra read. A small smile played about Josephine’s features; Cassandra fancied it was Josephine’s own wistfulness for her home in Antiva City. She began to put more feeling, more rhythm into her reading. 

When she came to the end, Josephine sighed. “Ah! When she writes, ‘Salt-heavy air, in swirling currents swept / Unfurling waves along the craggy shore / Shall I set eyes upon thee ever more? / Or live a life of promises unkept?’ — I could nearly weep.”

Cassandra blinked. “I… did not wish to distress you….”

Josephine laughed gently. “No, not at all. It is merely that… I sometimes fear that I will never see home again. Never see my family. After Haven…. But come, let us not talk of such things. Here, let me read one.” Josephine plucked the volume from Cassandra’s hands. She flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for. She curled up very close to Cassandra, and began to read a short and clever poem which subtly and eloquently skewered certain habits of the Orlesian nobility. Cassandra had never paid it much attention, preferring the poet’s more lyrical and romantic poetry, but Josephine read it with a subdued humour that made it quite entertaining. Cassandra even chuckled once or twice; not her usual response to literature of any kind.

When she finished reading, they sat in pleasant silence for a few moments. The sound of the stream was very soothing. Then Josephine asked Cassandra to read another one, so she selected a set of short romantic poems and began reading.

While Cassandra read, Josephine picked up one of the apples and the eating knife, and began cutting slices of apple. She ate most of them herself, feeding slices to Cassandra with her fingers in between poems. When the apple was gone, Josephine switched to the ginger cookies, feeding them to Cassandra and brushing away crumbs from her lips with the tips of her fingers. It was… extremely pleasant, thought Cassandra, to spend an afternoon like this, despite the earlier strife. She felt a sweet flutter in her chest every time Josephine fed her an apple slice or cookie, and she tried not to smile too widely in anticipation each time (as this made reading difficult).

When the cookies were gone, and the set of poems concluded, Josephine lay down with her head in Cassandra’s lap — “Is this all right?” she had asked, to which Cassandra had merely nodded, wonderingly, staring at Josephine’s large knot of beautiful dark hair that was pooled over her thighs — and asked her to read another.

Cassandra turned the pages to where the book would fall open if dropped — her very favourite poem in the volume, a longer poem about two lovers who cannot be together. The reason they could not be together was never overtly stated (though now that she knew more about the poet, Cassandra could hazard a guess) but the depth of longing, the descriptions of tender adoration, the passages where the lovers describe one anothers’ beauty and charm, the agony of separation… it was very, very romantic, and Cassandra loved it.

She did not say any of this. She merely began reading, and hoped that she would do it justice, and that Josephine would love it as well as she did.

Cassandra read the poem, feeling the emotions of the lovers in every line. She lost herself in it, her voice trembling with the threat of tears during the tragic sections, becoming low and honeyed through the adoration passages, and animated during the descriptions of their longing to be together. She read through to the very end, feeling very satisfied with her performance. She glanced down to her lap to gauge Josephine’s reaction.

Josephine’s eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. She was fast asleep. Cassandra was momentarily insulted — she thought she had done a decent job of reading, and it was _this poem_ of all poems! — but she recalled that Josephine hardly ever slept enough. She was often up before the dawn and in her office, she frequently spent most of the day dealing with thorny diplomatic issues and handling visiting nobility, and her duties often went late into the evening. Little wonder that she had fallen asleep, with the warmth of the sun on her and the trickle of the stream playing in the background as Cassandra read.

Cassandra set the book aside. She smiled tenderly as she looked down at Josephine. Even in sleep, she was very beautiful; with her eyes closed, Cassandra felt safe gazing at her. There was no one but the horse to observe her in this bit of romantic silliness, after all. 

Though Cassandra was still agonizingly conflicted about the sealed marriage, and what that entailed, in the last few days her feelings toward Josephine had shifted and deepened in a way that would be alarming if it was not both necessary and… pleasant. Cassandra had heard the term “whirlwind romance” and had always interpreted it to mean a liaison that had progressed more rapidly than society deemed appropriate. But Cassandra now thought it also meant that such a romance could swirl one about uncontrollably, like being caught in a dragon’s vortex. It was terrifying and exhilarating, all at once.

Cassandra found herself… startlingly happy. It all seemed to be so easy, now that she was in the middle of it. Josephine was so sweet, so lovely, that it was easy to allow an unexpected attraction to build. It was far, far less distressing than Cassandra would have thought. Perhaps, even the consummation of the marriage would — 

But no. Cassandra did not wish to think on that. At all. It was one thing to share sweet kisses and read poetry and eat treats from Josephine’s fingers. But the idea of anything much more intimate… no. She would not think of that now.

Instead, she looked again on Josephine’s serene face. A tendril of dark, glossy hair had come loose from its knot, and lay partly across Josephine’s face. Cassandra, without thinking, brushed it away with gentle fingers and tucked it behind Josephine’s ear. 

Josephine’s eyes opened. She took a deep breath as she smiled up at Cassandra. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice slightly hoarse from her slumber. “I think I fell asleep.”

“That’s all right.”

“Mmm.” Josephine stretched without rising, arching her back in a way that Cassandra found extremely discomposing. “No, it isn’t. I wanted to hear the poem. Will you read it to me some other time, when I shall promise to stay awake?”

“Of course,” Cassandra croaked. Josephine had started to push herself upright, pressing on Cassandra’s hip with one of her hands for leverage. Josephine’s eyes were half-lidded, and a sleepy smile played about her mouth. Cassandra instinctively put her arms around Josephine to help her up, but this had the effect of drawing their bodies closer together. Josephine curled her body against Cassandra’s and melted into her arms. Cassandra barely had time to take a startled breath before Josephine’s lips were on hers.

Cassandra found her eyes closing, her arms tightening around Josephine, pulling her even closer. Josephine hummed happily against Cassandra’s mouth; the sound was incredibly arousing. Josephine’s fingers played at Cassandra’s hips, sliding beneath her leather jerkin, stroking her body through the thin fabric of her shirt.

Desire blazed in Cassandra like a flare. She bent her body forward, cradling Josephine in her arms, and stroked her tongue into Josephine’s mouth. Josephine clutched at Cassandra’s waist, kissing her back with equal fervour. Cassandra kissed her deeply, and again, and again. It was completely intoxicating, kissing like this, with Josephine clinging to her, the weight of her body in Cassandra’s arms, the scent of Josephine’s perfume, the soft breathy noises she made as Cassandra kissed her. After some time, Cassandra pulled back just far enough to dip her head into the crook of Josephine’s neck, pressing soft kisses grazed with the tips of her teeth into Josephine’s silky skin. Josephine was making high keening sounds, her body moving against Cassandra’s in a way that made the flare burn even brighter, even hotter.

Cassandra felt desire throb low in her belly. She was filled with a wild need to… to do the things she read about in her novels. She wanted, she wanted, she wanted….

With a mighty effort, Cassandra pulled them both more or less upright again. She pressed a last kiss to Josephine’s ear, eliciting another gasp. Then she held Josephine, not at arm’s length, but far enough apart to look at her, to catch her breath.

Josephine’s eyes were dark, her expression passionate. Cassandra thought for a second she would lose control of herself and pull Josephine back down, pin her to the ground, pull off those proper and confining clothes and — 

No! She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened her eyes again. Josephine was smiling now, an expression of such happiness and affection, directed at _her_ , that it took Cassandra’s breath away.

“You are magnificent,” breathed Josephine.

Cassandra felt herself flush. She looked down, embarrassed and pleased, not sure if she was expected to return the compliment, or what to say if she was.

Josephine laughed, gently and happily. She bent forward and pressed a kiss to Cassandra’s forehead, then leaned back onto her heels. “Come,” she said. “I see by the sun that we need to be heading back. I have the Arl and his entourage to entertain this evening.” She stood, offering Cassandra her hands.

Cassandra was not entirely sure she would be able to stand properly, was not entirely sure that if she stumbled she wouldn’t bring the smaller woman down with her, but she somehow made it to her feet without tugging Josephine over. Her balance was not quite normal, but she was sure that would come back once she composed herself.

Cassandra collected their things and replaced them in the rucksack while Josephine re-did the knot in her hair. Then they shook out the blanket and rolled it to be lashed to the rucksack. The horse made short work of the remaining apple before they mounted up as before.

The ride back was, if anything, even more distracting for Cassandra. Certainly, it would have been harder, after the afternoon they had had, to avoid thinking about the press of Josephine’s body into her own. But even her breathing exercises did not seem to help, because Josephine was humming a lovely melody, half under her breath, as they rode. It kept distracting Cassandra. She, who had been able to meditate in solitude for a year, distracted by shapely hips and soft humming! It was ludicrous.

But Cassandra could not bring herself to be too unhappy about it. Josephine had a lovely singing voice; she would have to ask Josephine to sing for her sometime. That struck Cassandra as wonderfully romantic. And, after all, Josephine was her betrothed; it was perfectly proper that Cassandra should put her hands on her waist, and enjoy it.

And so they rode back to Skyhold in a daze of half-feverish bliss, swaying together with the horse’s walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Someone needs to tell Cassandra that those breathing exercises might come in REAL HANDY when she feels like throwing a cup, or stabbing a book, or otherwise pitching a fit.
> 
> 2) I have taken a number of liberties with horseback riding, and with the geography of the Skyhold area. I do what I want! ;)
> 
> 3) Sorry about that summary, but once it got stuck in my head, I decided it needed to get stuck in your head too. If I suffer, we all suffer.
> 
> 4) Lest anyone think that I am a prolific writing machine: I had about 2/3rd of the whole thing written before I even started posting, and I started posting pieces of it to spur myself over a bit of writer's block (which worked!). I also love frequent updates as a reader, so I thought this would be a nice way to do it. The last few chapters are kicking my butt as a writer, but I really hope I'll be able to keep up a brisk posting schedule until it's complete!


	12. Things Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra has a dark night of the soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an "alcohol" tag on this fic for a reason. There's been a fair amount of imbibing already; this chapter takes it up several notches.

At Skyhold, Josephine asked Cassandra to take tea with her again the next morning, which Cassandra happily agreed to. They parted ways, Josephine to prepare for her evening with the Fereldan delegation, Cassandra to return the kitchen’s things. They did not embrace upon taking leave of one another, but Josephine gave Cassandra a very expressive smile before walking off. Cassandra flushed, but smiled back.

Walking toward an entrance to the keep that would take her to the kitchens, the rucksack slung over her shoulder, Cassandra passed a… shadow on the wall that somehow… did not seem to _belong_. Sighing, she stood to the side of the shadow until it resolved itself into Cole.

“Yes, Cole, what is it?” she asked, not unkindly. At least Cole had taken to asking her permission to speak to her, after a way — the shadow at the edge of her vision — rather than suddenly appearing and speaking his riddles to her.

“She is grace and light in a blighted world,” Cole said. “Her touch is heart-fire, home-feeling, happiness.”

“Cole,” Cassandra growled. “ _Don’t_.”

“There has never been such light inside you,” Cole said mournfully. “It is a rare thing, Cassandra, and precious. You should not be so afraid — ”

“Cole, enough,” Cassandra said, firmly but not angrily. She had learned that it did no good to get angry at Cole. “Do not look into my mind.”

“But… it glows…” With that, he was gone. Cassandra shook her head and continued toward the kitchens. She was still not entirely comfortable around Cole, but he was benign enough when he wasn’t narrating her thoughts.

She returned the flask and tablecloth to the kitchen, which was unusually chaotic. From the sound of things, a large number of unexpected guests had arrived for the evening meal, in addition to the Fereldan delegation that Josephine had been so concerned over. Cassandra sighed. She had hoped to get something that she could take to eat back in her quarters where she would read over the book of poetry she had brought on her picnic with Josephine. But, it looked like she would have to head to the Herald’s Rest. She truly wasn’t in the mood for company, but perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. She could always read later.

As she made her way to the tavern door, she passed Blackwall. She nodded at him, expecting a nod in return, as usual. Cassandra respected the Grey Wardens a great deal, and Blackwall was a good fighter who seemed to take her seriously in return, so she liked him.

This time, he stopped her. “Cassandra,” he said, “a word, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Cassandra moved to stand next to him where he leaned against a wall. “What is it, Warden Blackwall?”

“Heard about you and Lady Josephine.”

_Oh._ “Oh,” she replied weakly.

“Just wanted you to know that I hope the two of you’ll be very happy.”

“…Thank you.”

“But,” Blackwall rumbled, “I expect that you’ll treat her properly, Seeker Cassandra. A lady like Josephine doesn’t come along every day.”

“…Indeed.” Maker, she had just wanted to get something to eat!

“She deserves the very best,” Blackwall went on. “I sincerely hope that you’re prepared to provide that.”

Cassandra tried not to let her face twist into a mortified grimace. “I intend to do my duty, Blackwall. With Josephine as with all people. Now excuse me,” she said, turning abruptly away and marching through the tavern door before he could call her back. She felt a surge of panic well up; perhaps allowing Leliana to disseminate the news about Josephine and her had been a mistake.

Her trepidation was compounded by the impression she had, when entering the tavern, that all conversation stopped for a brief second as people took in her appearance. But then the noise rose again, and to such a normal level, that she thought perhaps she had imagined it. She made her way to the bar so she could get some food, quickly, and leave.

Cassandra was sitting at the bar, hunched over a mostly-finished bowl of stew and glass of small ale, hoping to be left in peace, when she heard someone take the stool next to her.

“Hey, Cassandra. How’s it going?” asked The Iron Bull.

Cassandra’s shoulders lowered a fraction. “Bull,” she said in greeting, not looking up.

“Hmm,” he replied, amusement in his voice. He ordered an ale, which arrived in a massive mug the size of Cassandra’s head. He took a long pull before speaking again. “Don’t overthink it, Seeker.”

“Overthink _what?_ ”

“This thing you’ve got going with Josephine. It’ll be good, for both of you. Trust me. Just relax and it’ll work out.”

Cassandra merely grunted into her glass.

Bull gave a low laugh. “Look, Leliana brought me in on the plan,” he said quietly, so that only Cassandra could hear. “All afternoon we’ve been letting it get out there that your shithead cousin’s after you for your rank, so you and Josephine are getting married to ward that off. And you’re getting to know each other better, fast, because of that. A marriage of convenience, between colleagues and friends. No mention of anything magical.”

Cassandra stared into her empty bowl. “Thank you,” she said weakly. “I appreciate your help.”

“No problem, Cassandra.” Bull took another large swallow of ale. “I’m not too fond of this business. With the, shall we say, _terms_ of the marriage. I don’t like to see people being forced into situations like this. But I gather there weren’t any other options.”

“…No. There weren’t.”

“Are you all right with it? With the… terms?”

Cassandra sighed and fiddled with her glass. “I will admit, it is not entirely what I would have chosen. But Josephine…” Cassandra allowed herself a very small smile. “I am indeed very fond of Josephine,” she said quietly. “More and more. So much so that… I think the terms are… I find I am open to them.”

“Glad to hear it.” Cassandra could hear the smile in Bull’s voice. “Well, we’re all pulling for you. I’ll do everything I can to control the message, to make sure you and Josephine can keep this business as private as possible.”

Cassandra glanced over at Bull. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“Any time.” Bull smiled and raised his glass. Cassandra returned the salute, then drained the last of her small ale. 

Cassandra turned around to slide off the stool, and came unexpectedly face-to-face with Sera. The young woman grinned rakishly at her. Cassandra bit back a groan; if Sera knew about the forthcoming marriage, she was not likely to be tactful about it.

“Hey, Cassandra!” Sera said by way of greeting. “Shouldn’t you be off making kissy-faces with Laaaaaady Josephine?” Sera giggled.

Cassandra made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes. She slid off the stool and tried to edge her way past Sera. She considered pushing past the elf to escape, but Sera was more likely to cause a scene if she did. She fervently hoped Sera has not in the mood to tease her too badly.

“Sera, c’mere. Looks like a seat’s just freed up,” Bull said, patting the stool Cassandra had just vacated.

Sera ignored him. “Can you imagine? The biiiig scaaaaary Seeker, and Her Precious Ladee-Ship Mon-Teal-Yay, getting hitched? Andraste’s tits, the two’ve you’ll probably need an instruction manual to figure out how to do it with each other!”

“Sera.” Cassandra’s warning was low and angry. She thought, briefly, about the dagger in her boot, and its probable effectiveness in getting Sera to be quiet… but no.

Sera laughed at her. “S’all right, I’ve got a book or two I could lend you! Got pictures and everything!”

At that, Cassandra threw caution to the wind and shouldered Sera aside, leaving the tavern quickly. Maker, perhaps this _had_ been a mistake. What had she been thinking, allowing this to become generally known? She hurried to her quarters, wishing for once that she had a door she could close. And lock.

Cassandra busied herself getting the brazier lit and putting away her things from that afternoon. She tried reading the book of poetry, but found she could not keep her mind on it. So instead, she got out her plate armour and tended to it, then to her cuirasses and leathers, then to her swords and the several shields she kept. When all her gear was in more or less perfect condition, she cast about for something to do. Her mind was going in a thousand directions, and she wanted nothing more than to just quiet it.

She decided to try some meditative techniques from her Seeker training. She settled herself on the floor, close enough to the brazier to be warmed by it, and calmed her breathing. She went through a moderately long meditation sequence to focus her mind and rid it of extraneous thoughts. It was… challenging, but by the end of the sequence, she felt somewhat calmer.

She changed into her sleeping clothes, washed her face and cleaned her teeth, and lay down on her bed. But she could not settle. She tried to recall how lovely and enjoyable the day had been, but her mind kept twisting each thought, each memory, into distress. She couldn’t seem to stop latching onto one unpleasant thought after another. 

She was to _marry_ in a few days. Josephine, despite everything, was still almost a stranger to her. They had only really gotten to know each other as friends the last few months, and they were to be joined, if not forever, then indefinitely. They would be attached for as long as Thomasz remained a threat, as he was likely to do so for some time unless the Inquisition was able to muster resources they currently did not anticipate acquiring.

It was bad enough that she and Josephine were to be bound together for the foreseeable future despite knowing actually very little of one another. But the sealing! The consummation! Cassandra’s mind caught on Sera’s obnoxious cackle as she had offered Cassandra a book, with instructions, with _pictures_. That was what everyone would be saying, would be thinking — obscene, bawdy rumours about Josephine and her, and what their marriage would entail.

And Cassandra would have to actually _go through_ with it. This was a terrifying prospect. Cassandra had only ever been intimate with one _man_ , and that relationship had progressed naturally. To have to make love to a _woman_ , to _Josephine_ , just a few days hence… it was out of the question. Why had she ever agreed to this? Her earlier pleasure and desire seemed inaccessible, unreal, like a Fade dream that vanished like smoke in the wind upon waking.

Furthermore, she was clearly delusional about Josephine’s supposed affections toward _her_. What had she been thinking, forcing herself on Josephine like she had? It was absolutely appalling behaviour. Cassandra had allowed her romantic inclinations, her own… her own ludicrous infatuation to take over her rational faculties. Josephine was doing this for the good of the Inquisition, for the sake of protecting Cassandra. For Cassandra to take advantage of that was unforgivable. Josephine had asked for courtly devotion and affection, not — not to be _molested_. Cassandra was disgusted with herself.

With a snarl, she threw off her covers. She quickly pulled on clothing and smudged some kohl on her eyes before storming out into the yard.

It was night, but not so late that Skyhold was entirely asleep. Cassandra wandered, unsure even where she was headed, knowing only that she wished to avoid the few people that might be up and about at this hour. She stalked through the yard, up and around the ramparts, then into some of the back hallways of the keep. Her mind was turning, turning, turning, one terrible thought after another.

Eventually, somehow, she found herself in the library, which was lit but apparently deserted. She paused. Perhaps speaking to Leliana, sure to be in the Rookery above, would do her some good… But no. Cassandra could not face Leliana, not while she felt like this, certainly not after her ghastly treatment of Josephine. She turned around and around, at a loss, until she was gripping the banister with both hands, leaning over it. She could see the light in Solas’s study below, focused on that, tried to get her thoughts in order.

“Cassandra?”

She spun around as though a demon had snuck up on her, grappling for the sword she had not put on when she left her quarters.

Dorian emerged from the stacks, holding up both hands in entreaty, a book held in one hand with his thumb stuck in the pages. “I thought I heard someone out here,” he said, conversationally. 

Cassandra huffed out an annoyed breath, still rattled, heart pounding. “Why must you skulk around like that?” Her voice sounded peevish even to her own ears.

“To be perfectly fair, I _was_ here first. I’d say _you_ are the one ‘skulking around,’ but I’m afraid I heard you come from practically across the hold.”

“…Ugh.” This was not helping Cassandra’s agitated mood.

Dorian set the book down on a nearby table. “Cassandra…” he began uncertainly. “I’ve heard about what you’re doing. What you’re being forced to do. This marriage to Josephine. I happened to run into Vivienne while she was preparing a bit of magic, and, well, I thought I recognized the components.” He looked at her shrewdly. “What we’ve all been told is that this is a marriage on paper, a marriage of convenience to prevent you being forcibly married off to one of your less savoury cousins. But if what I saw in Vivienne’s suite is what I think it is… there is more to it than that. Am I wrong?”

Cassandra looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You are not wrong. But it is not any of your business.”

Dorian shook his head. “Cassandra, we may not be bosom friends, but I do care about your wellbeing, and I can’t remain silent. This isn’t right. You should not be forced into… into something like that. Something that goes against your nature, against your own inclinations.” Dorian was becoming agitated as he spoke. “I’m frankly appalled that your friends would even consider this. It’s horrifying, and cruel, forcing you into an intimate relationship in this way.” Dorian looked into her eyes, very serious. “I do not approve of what they have decided for you, Cassandra. And I want to help. Is there anything I can do for you, anyone I can speak to on your behalf, to help convince them to find another way? To find another way that honours who you are, as a person?”

Cassandra closed her eyes. How to even begin to explain? How could she explain anything about this situation to Dorian, when she herself was so utterly confused? She felt helpless anger and frustration bubble up in her mind, and tried desperately to keep it in check. Through clenched teeth, she said, “Thank you for the offer. It will not be necessary.”

“Are you quite sure? I may be able to — ”

“Yes!” Cassandra’s eyes flashed open. She had no idea where this anger had suddenly come from, but was helpless in its grip. “Please, just _stay out of it!_ ” She turned on her heel and stalked away.

Cassandra heard him calling her name and increased her pace. Why would no one give her any peace? She did not slow down as she jogged down the curved stairs, down, down, down. Soon enough, there were no more stairs.

Cassandra was standing in Solas’s atrium, a little out of breath. She felt the anger tease at the edge of her consciousness, but stubbornly pushed it down. She looked around. Solas was standing off to one side, gazing at one of his murals. He glanced over at her after a few seconds. He did not seem to be surprised at her sudden appearance, or her rattled state. “Seeker Cassandra,” he said, greeting her impassively.

She took a breath, bracing herself. “I suppose you also have an opinion on my situation,” she snapped, exhausted and irrationally upset.

“Your situation?” Solas repeated. “Ah, I suppose I did hear that you are dealing with something involving marriage.” He turned back to the mural. “As a human tradition, I find it quite vulgar. It is little more than institutionalized wealth transfer and justification for sexual gratification.” Cassandra must have made a noise, for he turned back to her. “Cassandra, I’m very sorry if you find yourself embroiled in a problematic circumstance, but I really am entirely indifferent to such matters. Was there something else you needed from me?”

Cassandra felt all the energy, all the anger and frustration, drain out of her all at once. She felt numb. “No. Nothing. Good night, Solas.”

“Good night, Cassandra.”

Cassandra found her feet moving, was unsure where exactly she intended to go. She couldn’t decide what was worse — the myriad people who seemed to want to comment on her arrangement with Josephine, or Solas’s cold dismissal of her distress.

This entire situation was a mess. And it was all her fault. She should not have been so very forward with Josephine, especially today; how was she going to face Josephine tomorrow, or ever again? She should not have told Leliana to make their situation known. She should not have allowed her heart and her… _libido_ to make a fool of her. She should never have agreed to the sealed marriage in the first place. She should have somehow known to kill Thomasz the last time she had seen him, at a formal function at her uncle’s house when she was four years old. This would never have happened, and all would have been well.

She wandered in a kind of daze, and was largely unaware of her surroundings, until a hand gripped her forearm.

“ _Cassandra!_ ” Varric was saying her name urgently, holding her arm.

Cassandra blinked. She was standing in the nearly-deserted Throne Room, facing the main doors, next to the fireplace that was Varric’s haunt. She looked down at him. He was gripping her forearm, not hard, but not casually. His face was a mixture of concern and confusion.

“Cassandra, are you all right?” he asked.

“I am fine, Varric,” she replied tonelessly, too exhausted to be angry any longer.

“You’re up awfully late,” Varric remarked. “Come on, have a seat.” He tugged gently on her arm, toward the chairs at the table before the fire. She followed, unresisting, and sat.

Varric sat at the chair across from her, pushing some papers and pens off to the side. His features were tinged with concern. “Seeker, I’ve hardly ever seen you up this late, and I have never seen you wandering the Throne Room in a stupor. What the hell is going on?”

Cassandra heaved a tired sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

Cassandra felt an ember of annoyance flicker back to life inside her. “Why should it matter to _you_ , Varric?”

“Well, _that’s_ a relief,” Varric said in response to her aggrieved tone. “I was worried for a moment that you might have been possessed by a sloth demon.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise, but her heart wasn’t really in it.

“To answer your question: it matters to me because I care about you.”

Cassandra snorted in disbelief.

“This may surprise you, Cassandra, but it’s possible to _care_ about someone even when you don’t always _like_ them every minute of the day.”

Cassandra looked at him dubiously.

“You want to talk about it?” Varric asked. Cassandra looked away. Part of her wanted to talk, very badly; part of her wanted to stay strong and not spill her problems to the first friendly face; yet another part of her was profoundly uneasy that she was speaking to Varric, or thinking of him as _a friendly face_ , at all.

Varric pushed his chair back from the table. “Heard that you and Ruffles are officially an item,” he remarked as he made his way to a cupboard beside the fireplace. “I also heard that it wasn’t exactly your choice, that some Pentaghast cousin is forcing your hands.” He rummaged around in the cupboard, returning to the table with a sealed bottle and two cups.

Cassandra sighed. She was feeling a little more like herself. “Yes. It seems the legacy of the Pentaghasts is entirely one of misery and wretchedness,” she said bitterly.

“You know, normally I wouldn’t argue with that.” Varric had trimmed the wax seal off the bottle, and was wrangling the stopper out with a pocketknife. “But even I have to admit that you’ve brought a hell of a lot more hope to the Inquisition than you have misery. And I’m including my own experience in that, for what it’s worth.” The stopper came out with a loud pop, and Varric made a pleased noise. He poured amber liquid into the two cups and handed one to Cassandra.

She sniffed its contents warily, then recoiled as if she’d been hit. “Merciful Andraste!” she said, with feeling. Whatever was in the cup, it was powerfully strong. The aroma was a mixture of smoke, sea brine, and… Maker knew what. It nearly singed her nostrils. It certainly shook off the last of her daze.

Varric laughed in a low rumble. “Northern Ferelden whisky,” said. “They only distill it in a few places. This stuff is from Highever.” He took a sip and hummed in appreciation. Cassandra stared. Was she actually meant to _drink_ this? Varric smiled at her. “Do you know what a bottle of this costs? I don’t share it with just anyone, you know. Come on, Seeker, try it. It’ll put hair on your chest.”

“Honestly, coming from you, to me, that is not an endorsement,” she said drily. Varric grinned in reply. She sighed and took a very small, very careful sip. It burned all the way down her throat, the fumes rose up into her nostrils _again_ , and she nearly choked. When she recovered, she asked “Why in the Maker’s name would anyone _drink_ this?”

“I guess it’s an acquired taste.” Varric sipped from his cup again. “I first had this with a friend of mine. Used to be a pirate captain without a ship. Now she’s an admiral. So if that’s not an endorsement, I don’t know what is!”

“Hmm,” Cassandra said skeptically. The aftertaste that lingered in her mouth was… surprisingly not awful. It was warm and pleasantly smoky and somehow both comforting and stimulating. She took another cautious sip; this one went down marginally better.

“Did I ever tell you about another old friend of mine, Aveline? I absolutely guarantee you would like her. Well, once in Lowtown, she and my pirate friend….” Varric related a lengthy tale about the Captain of the Guard and the Pirate Queen, and some the shenanigans in which the latter managed to embroil the hapless former. Varric was, of course, a skilled storyteller, and the tale _was_ entertaining, if unlikely, Cassandra thought. To her surprise, she found that her cup was actually empty by the end.

“This Isabela sounds insufferable,” Cassandra remarked as Varric refilled her cup.

“I guess she’s an acquired taste too.” Varric sat back. “So. You and Ruffles, eh?”

Cassandra grimaced. “What have you heard, exactly?”

“That you’re getting married, all of a sudden. Where did that come from?”

Cassandra shrugged and shook her head at the same time. “It came from nowhere. I was quite possibly more surprised than anyone.” She took a sip from her cup. The heat from the fire combined with the heat of the whisky, and was seeping into her blood. It was quite pleasant, she thought.

“Huh. So, prior to this cousin rearing his ugly head, there was nothing…?”

Cassandra shook her head. “We were friends. Colleagues. Nothing more, and no thoughts of anything more.”

“Hhm. If you say so. Well, this has to have been shocking, for you.”

“To say the least.” Cassandra drank again.

“Are you doing all right?”

“…As well as can be expected.”

“…Really.”

“Yes, _really_.”

“All right, all right.” Varric took a sip from his cup, then leaned back with a sigh. “All I’m saying is, this kind of thing can’t be easy, especially for someone like you.”

“What do you mean, ‘someone like me’?”

Varric fixed her with an appraising look. “In everything I’ve ever known you to do, Seeker, you are passionate. You _feel_ deeply, even if most of us can’t understand why the hell anyone would feel that way in any given situation. You might try to fight it, or logically think your way out of things, especially when other people feel differently than you. But in pretty much all things — first and last, you _feel_.”

Cassandra looked at him with extreme scepticism. She was a Seeker of Truth; she had endured the training, and the vigil; she saw through to the heart of things, unbiased. True, she had a romantic side, but that she might be a creature dominated by feelings was a wholly ludicrous notion. Whatever her failings, Cassandra was certain that being overly emotional was not one of them. She shook her head and drank again.

Varric shrugged. “Fine, don’t believe me.” He sipped, then grinned. “Now, Josephine, she also feels deeply. But she’d be the first to admit that. When she’s being The Ambassador, she’s nothing but competent professionalism, all the way, and we’re lucky to have her. But when she’s just being Ruffles? She wears her heart on her sleeve. And, Cassandra, she’s got a soft heart.”

Cassandra closed her eyes. “I know,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Are you really gonna go through with this?” Varric asked, not unkindly.

Cassandra opened her eyes so she could narrow them at Varric. Her breathing had somehow fallen out of rhythm. She drank the rest of her whisky in one long pull, feeling the burn as it eased down her throat, past her heart.

“Because for either of you to stay sane, I think you’d have to genuinely want this. Genuinely care for her,” Varric said, refilling her cup.

Cassandra took another long swallow. The liquid flame of it settled in her stomach like demon fire, warming and burning. “I do,” she whispered into her cup.

“Ah,” said Varric, as though she had answered something profound.

Cassandra looked up. “I do,” she repeated, softly, not sure why she was confessing this, to _Varric_ of all people. She could not seem to stop herself from speaking. “I didn’t think I did. I didn’t think I would. But now….” She took an unsteady breath.

“Listen, Cassandra, Josephine cares for you. I know she does.” Cassandra shook her head, silently denying this. “No, listen: she does. She absolutely cares for you, and I know she has for a while now. Probably even before this forced marriage was a twinkle in your cousin’s eye. I couldn’t write a more romantic story myself — the lovely diplomat pining over the fierce warrior.” Cassandra would not meet Varric’s eye; she took another deep pull from her cup. “But here’s what I don’t get: This is a good thing! Cassandra, this is a good thing. She cares about you. You care about her. You get along together and you have similar values. Most people would be embracing this. Why are you fighting it?”

Slapping her hand loudly on the table, Cassandra shouted, “Because _I don’t deserve it!_ ”

Varric seemed taken aback by her outburst. As though floodgates had opened, Cassandra pressed on. “Almost all my life, I have been alone, and it suited me. I am… I am _stubborn_ , and blunt, and dull. Why should Josephine be bound to someone like me? She deserves so much better, she deserves someone,” Cassandra drew a shuddering breath, “someone charming, and elegant, and cheerful. Josephine is, she is, she is all of those things! And so much more! Who am I that I should have her?” She looked at Varric as though she expected an answer.

Hesitantly, Varric said, “Cassandra, I don’t think any of that matters when you love someone.”

“Love!” Cassandra said disdainfully. She swallowed the last of the whisky in her cup. “Do you know what happens to the people I love?” Her parents, Anthony, Divine Justinia, Regalyan, Daniel…. She swayed in her seat. 

Varric stood and came around to her side of the table. “Cassandra, all that happens to the people you love is that they are loved by you. It’s a shitty old world, and awful things happen to people every day, whether or not you love them. But, Seeker… I’ve seen enough of the world to know for sure that love is a rare and precious thing,” Varric went on, unknowingly echoing Cole’s words from earlier. “You shouldn’t throw that away because you’re afraid.”

“I am not afraid for _me_ ,” she whispered to Varric, almost pleading.

“Oh, you’re not? Could’ve fooled me.” He took her arm. “You look like you’re done for the night. Let’s get you home.” She rose without arguing and clung to his shoulder as he led her out of the throne room and into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, I will post the next chapter tomorrow morning! Poor Cassandra has to wait overnight for things to get better, and so does any poor soul reading this in real time. :(


	13. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The "comfort" response to last chapter's "hurt" call.

Cassandra first became aware of the noise of the smithy, the bellows of the forge and the clanging of hammers on anvils. She opened her eyes. The dim light of dawn came through the doors below. She sat up suddenly, disoriented, and immediately regretted it. She lay back with a groan. Her head throbbed painfully with every movement, her stomach was queasy, and her mouth tasted like a privy that had been lit on fire and then partially doused with brackish seawater. She took a few deep breaths. At least she was in her own bed. The quilt had been tucked over her. She was fully clothed except for her boots, which had been pulled off. What was happening?

In bits and pieces, it came back to her. The Herald’s Rest, Bull and Sera. Trying to sleep. Walking the keep. Dorian. Solas. Varric. And Varric’s whisky. Well, shit.

She carefully rolled over, thinking to get out of bed. On her bedside table was a note, a stoppered flagon, and a pitcher of water and cup. She managed to grab the note on her second attempt, and read it with blurry eyes.

_Cassandra,_

_You probably won’t remember, but I managed to get you to your own quarters, safe and sound. I’ve left water and a hangover cure that Bull swears by. He says it could revive a corpse, which is probably pretty close to what you feel like. Sorry about that. Drink the potion — all of it — and the water, and sleep it off. I’ll make your excuses to Ruffles for the morning._

_V. Tethras_

Cassandra groaned again. Everything had gone from bad to worse. Of course it had. She recalled parts of her conversation with Varric and positively burned with humiliation. And now she was wretchedly hungover, and she was supposed to have tea with Josephine later, and absolutely none of her other problems had improved. She was still convinced that she had been mistaken about Josephine’s intentions, and that she had grievously overstepped her bounds. And the sealed marriage was still going to happen in a matter of days.

Cassandra slowly and gingerly sat up. She somehow managed to swallow all the potion Varric had left — it was powerfully bitter — and then a substantial amount of water, despite her nausea. Then she lay back down. Perhaps this was all a nightmare, and she would wake and find that none of this sealed marriage business had ever happened. She closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she was once again disoriented because — judging by the shadows — the sun was directly overhead. She was _never_ abed this late in the day. What was happening?

And so Cassandra went through a second round of mortifying recollections, with the unwelcome addition that she had missed her appointment with Josephine. Thank the Maker Varric had apparently spoken to her, although Cassandra still felt miserable about the whole situation. At least this time she felt decidedly better physically. Bull’s hangover cure was obviously potent — her headache was significantly reduced, and she was no longer nauseous. However, her mouth still tasted foul, and she reckoned she smelled like a distillery. Hauling herself out of bed, she gathered soap and a change of clothes into a basket, pulled on her boots, and slipped out of the smithy. Hopefully the baths wouldn’t be too busy at this time of day.

She washed very, _very_ thoroughly, scrubbing off the kohl that had caked around her eyes, rinsing out her mouth repeatedly at one of the wall spigots. That Ferelden whisky was truly some abomination sent by Fade demons into the world of the waking, and she would never forgive Varric for giving it to her. Cassandra soaked for a rather long time, changed into her fresh clothing, and dragged herself back up to her quarters. She stripped the bed (she thought she had perhaps sweated pure whisky onto the sheets, based on the way they smelled) and put on her spare bed linens, and tossed the stripped bedclothes and her clothing from last night into a pile to be dealt with later. 

Then, she sat on her bed, debating whether to go in search of food and run the risk of having to talk to someone, or simply to lie down and sleep off the rest of the hangover. The daytime noise of the smithy had reached that level where it was a uniform low roar, and Cassandra felt certain she could sleep through it, particularly as her bed was tucked up in a far corner where the noise was dampened. But she should probably eat something. On the other hand, having to talk to anyone just then, or, Maker forbid, to Josephine… the idea was insupportable.

“Cassandra?”

Cassandra thought for a moment she was hallucinating. Surely that was not Josephine’s voice on the stairs to her loft…? But no, it was, and Josephine herself emerged at the top of the stairs a moment later, carrying a tray. Cassandra fought the urge to turn away and bury her face in her pillow. She succeeded, but felt her body go rigid, and she could not bring herself to look at Josephine as she approached.

Cassandra heard Josephine set the tray down on the table. A moment later, she had walked over the the bed, and was standing directly in front of Cassandra, who still would not look up. “Cassandra? Are you all right?” Josephine asked, uncertain.

Cassandra’s shoulders slumped. “I am sorry,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I — I should not have — yesterday. And I, I missed tea. This morning. …I am very sorry.” She thought she had never felt more abject.

Josephine made a sympathetic humming sound. She sat next to Cassandra on the bed. With one hand, she rubbed Cassandra’s back in soothing circles; the other hand clasped one of Cassandra’s, interlacing their fingers. “Poor Cassandra. Varric told me that you spent some time in his company last night. You might be happy to hear that he is quite contrite that he encouraged you to overindulge.”

Cassandra grunted in reply. Josephine’s hand on her back really was wonderfully relaxing. Cassandra was wearing only a shirt and breeches, and the warmth of Josephine’s hand penetrated her muscles.

“Please do not worry for a single moment about missing tea this morning. It allowed me to get quite a lot done. In fact, I have told my staff that I will not be in the office this afternoon. I am going to stay here,” Josephine said, giving Cassandra’s hand a quick squeeze, “and take care of you.”

Cassandra closed her eyes. Josephine’s hand had not stopped making gentle circles on her back. This kindness, Josephine’s deep sweetness, was almost overwhelming. Cassandra took a shuddering breath. “I apologize for my behaviour toward you,” she began.

The hand on Cassandra’s back stilled briefly, but then resumed its soothing pattern. “Your behaviour? Toward me? What could you possibly have to apologize for?” Josephine sounded genuinely mystified.

Cassandra’s breathing was juddering out of rhythm, but she pressed on. “I was — I have been overly forward with you. I should not have, should not have presumed to… to do to you what I have done. You asked me to approach courtship with affection, with devotion, and I… I have been overly aggressive, I have been _lewd_. I allowed my — my feelings to overtake my sense. I did not show the respect or restraint you deserve, and I am sorry.” Cassandra hung her head. Shame flashed through her body like wildfire.

Josephine had stopped rubbing her back. Cassandra felt her shift beside her, then felt Josephine’s soft fingers under her chin, urging her to lift her face. Cassandra resisted; shame kept her face downcast. The touch of fingers on her jaw became a caress. She felt Josephine kiss her forehead.

“Oh, Cassandra,” Josephine said, her voice warm with affection. “You know I adore you, but you can be so very _oblivious_.” Josephine pressed a kiss to Cassandra’s ear, then the side of her neck. Her arms went around Cassandra’s shoulders and pulled her close. She said, her lips tickling Cassandra’s ear, “You have never, never touched me in a way I did not want. I have cherished every moment we have spent together. You have been _perfect_.”

Cassandra lowered her face onto Josephine’s shoulder, put her arms around Josephine’s waist, clung to her as though she were a spar in a stormy sea. She did not weep, but she felt she might with the slightest provocation. Josephine started rubbing those comforting circles on her back once more. Cassandra simply breathed for long moments, Josephine’s perfume in her nose, a stream of Antivan words being whispered to her as she was held, rocked, cherished.

Eventually, Cassandra’s breathing evened out and she raised her head from Josephine’s shoulder. She pulled back and looked at Josephine’s face. Josephine smiled, raised one hand to Cassandra’s jaw. Her thumb gently traced Cassandra’s cheekbone, over the myriad scars on Cassandra’s face. She leaned in and kissed Cassandra on the mouth, once, twice, three times, then pressed their foreheads together. “I want this,” she said softly. “I want _everything_.” Her thumb kept stroking Cassandra’s face, softly, mapping her skin.

“I don’t deserve you,” Cassandra whispered, barely audible above the low roar of the smithy.

But Josephine apparently heard. She pulled back and looked into Cassandra’s eyes. “You deserve to be happy,” Josephine said with conviction. “And if I make you happy, then I am what you deserve, and I am very lucky.” She placed one more soft kiss on Cassandra’s mouth, then leaned back, rising from the bed. She poured the last of the water from the pitcher into the cup and handed it to Cassandra. “Now, before I forget, I have brought some food for you. This is what we ate as students, in Val Royeaux, the day after an extravagant party… or a debauched one,” she said, amusement colouring her voice. She returned to the bed with a trencher holding two filled rolls. “Salt beef and hot mustard,” Josephine said. “Drink the rest of your water, and eat as much as you can. I have already had my lunch, so no need to save any. You will feel better once you have some proper food in your stomach. I am going to make you some tea,” she said, leaving the trencher with Cassandra and bustling off to get more water.

Cassandra did as she was told. The rolls were surprisingly appealing, given her physical state. The hot mustard made her nose run a little, but it was absolutely satisfying. Cassandra found that she was hungry enough the eat the entire second roll.

Josephine had refilled the pitcher and the kettle, which she was heating over the brazier (whose coals Josephine had stirred back to life). Cassandra lay back on her bed, nursing another cup of water and watching Josephine make tea. She still could not entirely wrap her mind around Josephine not only forgiving her, but being physically affectionate, not out of a sense of duty or obligation, but because _she wanted it too_. It boggled her mind that… that Josephine should feel this way. About _her_.

Josephine returned to sit on the bed. She handed Cassandra a clay mug of steaming tea. “This is weak tea brewed with quite a lot of ginger root, sweetened with honey,” she said. “It will help soothe your stomach.” She took the trencher away and set it back on the table, then returned to the bed with her own mug. She sat close to Cassandra, her hips nestled against Cassandra’s thigh. They both sipped the tea. It was wonderfully spicy. “I’m afraid it’s not Antiva Oro,” Josephine teased, “but it will make you feel better.”

“I am already feeling quite well,” Cassandra replied.

Josephine smiled. “Perhaps. You are still staying here for the rest of the afternoon, and I am staying with you.”

Cassandra shook her head. “I should at least _try_ to accomplish something today. And I am sure you have better things to do than play nursemaid to a woman who can’t hold her whisky.”

“I _want_ to stay with you, Cassandra,” Josephine said, smiling above her mug. “And your time today would be better spent recovering your strength, rather than pushing yourself too far and exhausting yourself. Besides, are we not supposed to be spending time together?”

Cassandra could not argue with that. Or possibly she simply did not _wish_ to argue with it. She still felt tired, physically and mentally, and… the Inquisition would go on, for an afternoon, without them, as it had yesterday. And she and Josephine were facing extenuating circumstances — really, spending the afternoon together, again, was in the Inquisition’s best interests if it moved them closer to sealed marriage. She smiled her acquiescence at Josephine.

When the tea was finished, Josephine rose to set the mugs on the table. When she returned, she was carrying the book of poetry from yesterday. She toed off her shoes and climbed over Cassandra to the far side of the bed. “What are you doing?” Cassandra asked, bemused. 

“ _I_ am going to read,” Josephine. She smiled. “Silently, this time. And I am going to hold you while you sleep some more.”

“I do not need more sleep,” Cassandra protested.

“Nonsense,” Josephine replied. “Varric assures me you were up very, very late. And you have been unwell. So you must rest. And I want to be here, by your side, when you wake.” She leaned over and kissed Cassandra’s temple. Her arm snaked around Cassandra’s shoulders, and she gently urged Cassandra to recline and settle down onto the bed. Cassandra found herself tucked against Josephine’s side, her head at Josephine’s breast, her arm around Josephine’s waist. Josephine’s heart beat steadily beneath her ear. Under her hand, she could feel the sturdy cinch Josephine wore with her formal clothing. Her fingers played at the edge of it. At some point, she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Cassandra woke to Josephine pulling her close and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. Her arm was still thrown over Josephine’s waist. Cassandra blinked against the late afternoon light, still half-asleep. She felt quite comfortable and rested. She craned her neck to look into Josephine’s face. She was so very beautiful, Cassandra thought. So surpassingly beautiful. And here Cassandra lay, in her arms. It was extraordinary.

“You are beautiful,” Cassandra said, her voice velvety with sleep and fondness. “Just exquisitely beautiful.”

Josephine laughed breathily, blushed, and hid her face from Cassandra by tucking her chin above Cassandra’s head. “Stop!” she said joyfully. “You flatter me much too much.” Cassandra responded by turning her face up and burrowing her nose into Josephine’s neck. She felt Josephine’s body react, felt her own body respond to that reaction, curled into Josephine a little closer….

“Hmmmmmm,” Josephine hummed appreciatively. “You are making it extremely difficult for me to be responsible. But I’m afraid I must go; I need to look over the work of my attachés before the ravens are sent out. And we have an engagement tonight — there is to be a game of Wicked Grace in the tavern.”

Cassandra huffed into Josephine’s neck. “Must you? Must we?”

“I’m afraid so,” Josephine replied. Cassandra could hear the smile in her voice. She slowly pulled herself out from under Cassandra’s arm. “It was absolutely lovely to spend so much time reading! And of course, being next to you.” She moved to the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss Cassandra’s mouth. When she pulled back, they were both smiling. Josephine pulled her shoes back on, then stood. She set the volume of poetry on the bedside table. “Well, then. I will see you in the tavern tonight, _cariño_. I only need a few hours to complete my work, and I do expect you to put in an appearance.” Josephine smiled mischievously at her before turning away.

“I am not any good at card games,” Cassandra complained.

“Well perhaps I will teach you sometime,” Josephine said as she gathered her things onto the tray on the table. “But card games are about more than winning, more than game strategy. They are about being together with one’s friends. And that is what we will do tonight.” She picked up the tray, gave Cassandra one last brilliant smile, and then was gone. 

Cassandra leaned back into her pillow. It smelled faintly of Josephine’s perfume. She closed her eyes. Everything about the last several hours was absolutely unbelievable to her. This level of affection, of attraction, and her _comfort_ with it, was unthinkable just days ago. Yet now here she was, her whole body humming with pleasure, joy ringing in her mind.

Cassandra sat up, drank several cups of water, and rose. She pulled on boots and a tunic, and headed to the chantry. She had missed her morning devotions, after all. And it seemed she had much to give thanks for; more, here, now, than she ever would have imagined for herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hangover that is 100% from peated single-malt whisky is no joke. Or, uh, so I've heard.
> 
> This is... this is a pretty self-indulgent chapter. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	14. Wicked Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name.

Leliana was sitting on a bench in the chantry yard when Cassandra emerged. She caught Cassandra’s eye. “Feeling better?” Leliana asked as she approached.

Cassandra sat beside her. “Northern Ferelden whisky,” Cassandra said disgustedly. “It ought to be outlawed.”

Leliana chuckled. “I never developed a taste for it, myself,” she said. “Why in the world were you drinking so much of it, with Varric, so late at night?”

Cassandra shook her head. It did not surprise her at all that Leliana knew. She raised her eyes to the sky, which was beginning to soften with the colours of dusk. “I think…” she began slowly. “I think I was perhaps having a crisis of faith. Not of faith in the Maker, or Andraste,” she added quickly. “But in this whole sealed marriage business.”

Leliana’s brows knit. “I thought things had been progressing well on that front.”

“Yes,” Cassandra said. “They are.” She smiled.

“…And then you started second-guessing everything.”

The smile on Cassandra’s face quirked into a grimace. “I suppose I did. Really, though, I cannot fathom why a woman like Josephine would….” Cassandra trailed off, embarrassed.

“Oh, Cassandra.” Leliana’s voice was affectionate. “I _told_ you Josephine is fond of you.”

“Yes. Well.” Cassandra glanced away.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Cassandra,” Leliana said, only half teasing. “Truly. It gives me great joy to see that you have come around. This sealed marriage is necessary, yes; but it does not follow that it must be an exercise in misery. _Duty_ does not need to be _sacrifice_.”

“I suppose not,” Cassandra replied. They sat together in silence for a few moments. Cassandra had no idea what Leliana was thinking, though she could hazard a guess — Leliana had sacrificed much, had lost much. Cassandra wondered how Leliana could be such a champion of closeness between herself and Josephine when she, Leliana, had been betrayed more than once by someone she loved. It seemed incredible to Cassandra that Leliana should not be impossibly bitter. Yet, she found strength in her heart to care about Cassandra, and about Josephine, and she cared enough to put forth an effort into seeing them happy together.

The light continued to slant into evening. Cassandra shook off her reverie and glanced around the chantry yard. “I suppose I will go to the Herald’s Rest,” she said. “I have been told to make myself present at tonight’s game of Wicked Grace,” she said drily. She glanced at Leliana. “I don’t suppose you’ll also be joining us?”

“I’m afraid not,” Leliana demurred. “I’m expecting a number of ravens tonight or very early tomorrow, and I must prepare.” Leliana rose to leave. “But I do hope you will try to have a good time. I would say, try not to lose all your money to Josephine, but seeing as your fortunes are to be joined, feel free to lose as much as you like.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling to herself as Leliana walked away.

***

In the tavern, only Varric and Dorian were already at the table where they usually met for Wicked Grace. Cassandra hesitated for a moment, but then decided to join them.

“Uh, hi, Cassandra,” Varric said as she took a seat next to him. “Listen, about last night… well, this morning, I suppose, if you want to be technical… I really shouldn’t have fed you so much whisky. Sorry.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat.

“You, uh, seem to be on your feet now, though.”

“Yes,” Cassandra agreed. Then she took pity on him. “Thank you for seeing me to my quarters, and for the potion,” she said.

“Least I could do.”

“Indeed,” Cassandra said, expressively.

“Hey now,” Varric protested. “You _did_ drink half of a very pricey bottle of rare whisky.” Cassandra gave Varric a piercing look. “All right, all right. We’ll call it even then.” Cassandra snorted.

Dorian was studying her. “Cassandra, I — ”

“Have done with it, Dorian,” Cassandra said, cutting him off. “Your concern is appreciated. But I am not being coerced into anything, and I am perfectly content with the arrangement that has been made for myself and Josephine. Please, do not attempt to interfere; I do not want you to.”

Dorian raised his eyebrows. “I was going to say that I’m impressed you’re actually upright so soon after consuming that much Northern Ferelden whisky, but I take your point.” Cassandra flushed. Dorian shrugged expressively. “If you find the situation acceptable, if you can be happy _and_ be yourself in it, then I wish you both joy.”

“Well,” Varric said, “now that _that’s_ out of the way, shall I get us some drinks?”

“Ugh, not for me, thank you,” said Cassandra.

Varric grinned. “Right. I suppose you’ll be abstaining for a while. At least my whisky will be safe.” Cassandra rolled her eyes. “I’ll see if they’ll make some tea, shall I?”

After that, conversation was relatively easy and pleasant. Both Varric and Dorian were entertaining, and Cassandra mostly listened to them banter.

“No, no, Varric, personal grooming is an important aspect of battle strategy — crucial, in fact,” Dorian was arguing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Sparkler. Your moustache is impressive, but it’s not going to stop a charging bear, much less a Red Templar. In fact, I bet the bear would care even _less_ than the Red Templar.”

“Nonsense. Although you’re quite right that intelligent foes are more likely to be cowed by my intimidatingly dapper appearance, the advantage is primarily psychological. When I know I look good, I am confident: I take more calibrated risks, I am less likely to be daunted by even the most puissant enemies, and my companions-in-arms will trust me all the more.”

“Hm. Vivienne would agree with you, no doubt. And I suppose even the Seeker here uses appearances to her advantage,” Varric said, titling his head toward Cassandra.

“I do _not_ ,” Cassandra said, huffing into her tea. “I rely on my skill and training in the field of battle, and on my reputation and the loyalty of my companions.”

“Uh huh. Then how do you explain those trousers?” Varric asked, smirking. Cassandra sputtered indignantly.

“They _are_ wonderfully form-fitting, even if your fabric choices leave something to be desired,” Dorian remarked. “Though I suppose some allowances must be made for practicality, and the difficulty in acquiring decent textiles in Ferelden. I’m not _criticizing_ , Cassandra,” he said to her as she glared. “Truly, you cut a very dashing figure in your gear. Josephine is a lucky woman.” He raised his glass. Varric raised his and touched it to Dorian’s. Both looked at Cassandra in humorous expectation. Grumbling and blushing hotly, not looking at them, she raised her mug of tea and touched it to their glasses. It would not do, after all, to fail to toast to Josephine.

Thankfully, the conversation moved on. When Bull and Blackwall joined the table a short time later, the atmosphere remained pleasant and lighthearted. Apparently, everyone had mostly already unburdened themselves of their opinions regarding Cassandra’s impending marriage, and were content to visit as usual. Cullen (dark circles under his eyes, but otherwise apparently in good health) and the Inquisitor arrived soon after Bull and Blackwall, and more drinks and food began appearing on the table. The conversation was lively, and Cassandra even joined in from time to time. 

“Hey boss,” Bull began during a rare lull in conversation. “I hear there may be another dragon hunt coming up.”

“Yes, it seems so,” Kaera replied. “In the Western Approach.”

Bull actually rubbed his hands together in glee. “Fantastic! I can’t wait.”

“You were such a great help during the last dragon hunt,” Kaera said to him, “that I think you’ve earned the right to sit this one out.” She said this with the air of one conferring a favour, but Bull’s face fell. “Cassandra and Blackwall will be able to pick up the slack — after all, dragon hunting is in Cassandra’s blood so we would of course want her along, and it really would be good for Blackwall to experience hunting a high dragon.” Kaera looked at Blackwall and Cassandra as she spoke. There was a twinkle in her eye, but Cassandra did not catch its meaning.

“Inquisitor, I am quite willing to let Bull go in my stead,” Cassandra said. “I have had more than enough opportunities in my life to hunt dragons, and Bull — ”

“No, the Inquisitor is right, Cassandra,” Blackwall interrupted. “Bull has done more than his share. It’s time to let him rest. I’m sure the last thing he’s interested in is yet another dragon hunt.”

“What are you talking about?” Cassandra was looking back and forth between Blackwall and Kaera. “Bull clearly wants to, oh, I see. It is a joke,” she concluded, voice caustic. Kaera was smiling crookedly and shaking her head at Cassandra, and Blackwall was laughing out loud.

Fortunately, attention did not remain on her for long, for Bull said, “Heh, yeah. Good one, boss. But you’re actually taking me, right?” Genuine concern touched his features.

Kaera adopted a faux-pensive air, and began listing an increasingly ludicrous checklist of requirements for her to consider taking Bull on the coming dragon hunt. By the end, even Cassandra had cracked a smile, and at any rate the Inquisitor assured Bull that, in all seriousness, she would not consider leaving him behind on a dragon hunt.

Cole had materialized in a chair at some point; Cassandra hadn’t seen him approach the table at all, and would have bet a sovereign that no one else had either. Then Sera sauntered up, apparently already rather inebriated, and made a few bawdy comments before disappearing again — Cassandra supposed she ought to be grateful that Sera had not even made it to her end of the table.

Varric did not seem to want to begin the card game until Josephine arrived. “It’s not even really a challenge without her,” he said. Pitchers of ale and plates of food appeared and disappeared, gossip and repartee were exchanged, and everyone seemed to greatly enjoy themselves.

Eventually Josephine arrived. “I see everyone is already here,” she said, smiling.

“Don’t worry, Ruffles, we didn’t start the game without you,” Varric said, raising his glass to her as she made her way around the table.

“Oh, there was no need to wait on my account.”

“Nonsense. I wanted to make sure I didn’t lose any of my money before you had the chance to win it all for yourself. Think of it as a wedding present,” Varric quipped.

Cassandra flushed at this, but no one else seemed to have heard — conversations were in full swing all around the table. Josephine merely smiled at Varric as she passed his chair. As she passed behind Cassandra, her hand brushed along Cassandra’s shoulders, caressing the back of her neck. A pleasant shiver rippled through her body.

Overall, the evening was almost indistinguishable from a dozen or more similar evenings that had come to pass since the Inquisition’s start. Ale flowed as freely as stories. A deck of cards appeared, and several games of Wicked Grace were played. Cassandra predictably lost the first game, and, just as predictably bowed out of subsequent games. This gave her an excellent opportunity to observe as Josephine very tidily, and without any apparent effort, won all of Cullen’s money and then his clothing as well. Cassandra could not bring herself to laugh at him, as some of the others were doing, but she _did_ think it served him right for directly challenging Josephine in a card game. Josephine’s intellect and acumen were not to be underestimated, she thought with more than a touch of pride.

Throughout the evening, there were odd moments where her relationship with Josephine was acknowledged, whether directly or tacitly. The seat next to Cassandra remaining empty until Josephine arrived to claim it. Blackwell making a joke about Cassandra not being able to afford a proper dowry if she continued to lose so miserably at Wicked Grace. Cabot the barkeep refusing to serve her more of the (admittedly vile) tea from the bar, insisting on serving her from his private cask of elderflower cordial and telling her that he wouldn’t hear of her drinking “that awful cheap tea, when it’s a time for celebration,” with a significant look at Josephine. These moments always caught Cassandra by surprise, and although she was sometimes slightly embarrassed, she was not entirely displeased. Her friends seemed… genuinely happy for her and Josephine, and were otherwise content to carry on as usual.

After Cassandra had convinced Josephine to return Cullen’s clothing, the gathering mostly broke up, wandering off in ones and twos. Cassandra stood and pulled Josephine’s chair out for her to rise, then offered her arm, which Josephine accepted. As they were leaving, Cassandra spotted a pair of skinny legs clad in gaudily-patterned hose under the table — so that was where Sera had gotten to.

“Shall we take a turn around the yard?” Josephine asked her. “I find I am not quite ready to retire for the evening.” She directed such a lovely smile at Cassandra that she felt she could not have denied Josephine even if she had wanted to.

They wandered through Skyhold’s yard, arm in arm, in no hurry to get anywhere in particular, their conversation similarly unhurried and comfortable. The moon was nearly full, and it was a pleasant night. They passed a few other people out and about, giving and receiving nods or brief greetings. Cassandra found that, far from being embarrassed, she was actually… quite pleased to be seen with Josephine. She found herself glancing over at Josephine frequently, allowing her eyes to roam over her profile, to fondly observe the way she gestured with her free hand, the expression of her mouth. They talked idly about their friends and the evening they had just had — Josephine facetiously expressed dismay that Cassandra had insisted on her returning Cullen’s clothes, after Josephine had lawfully won them. Soon enough, the night breeze chilled Josephine, and they walked into the keep, toward Josephine’s chambers.

Outside Josephine’s door, they turned to one another. Josephine put her hands on Cassandra’s waist and looked up at her with an expression of such tenderness that Cassandra closed her eyes and swayed, overwhelmed. How did she deserve such devotion, from such a woman? She opened her eyes and lifted both hands to cradle Josephine’s dear face. She allowed her fingers to trace over Josephine’s features, her eyebrows, her cheekbones, each precious beauty mark, the spread of her freckles. When her thumb traced over Josephine’s lower lip, Josephine closed her eyes, took and deep breath, parted her lips.

Cassandra slid her hands to either side of Josephine’s face, and bent to claim Josephine’s mouth with her own. Josephine’s arms slid around her waist, pulling their hips together. Still, Cassandra held her face, gently, adoringly, kissing her and kissing her and kissing her. Slowly, carefully, Cassandra allowed her hands to slide around Josephine, to clasp her shoulders and the small of her back, and pull her in close. Josephine arched into Cassandra’s arms. Cassandra deepened the kiss, pouring all her passion, her adoration, into every touch, every motion, every breath.

With something like regret, Cassandra pulled back. She gazed upon Josephine’s face, and once again brought a hand up to touch her cheek. She smiled, almost laughed with joy; how could she not? Josephine smiled up at her, nuzzling her hand and pressing a kiss into the palm. With a sigh, Josephine disentangled her arms from Cassandra’s and stepped back.

“May I see you tomorrow morning?” Cassandra asked. “I missed this morning’s appointment. I would like to make it up to you.”

“Oh, yes,” Josephine said. “Please. And… perhaps tomorrow evening, we could go together to the Herald’s Rest, for the evening meal? I confess, I had such a lovely time this evening, I think I would like to return.”

“Of course.” Cassandra reached up her hand to caress Josephine’s soft cheek once more. _Anything you want_ , she thought. “Until tomorrow morning. Good night.”

“Good night.”


	15. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning of the wedding day.

Despite having slept for much of the day, Cassandra found she fell asleep as soon as her head hit her pillow, and she slept soundly until she awoke at her usual time in the pre-dawn gloom. She rose and went to the chantry to perform her devotions, feeling humble and grateful. She quickly had a roll and some tea in the mess hall, and then made her way to the yard with her practice sword and shield, determined to get some kind of exercise in before meeting Josephine for tea.

Leliana found her before she had made it through the first set of drills. She did not wait for Cassandra to finish, but strode directly up to her, her face very serious. Cassandra lowered her sword immediately. “What is it?” she asked.

“Cassandra,” she said, “Vivienne has just this hour received the last components needed for the sealing contract. You and Josephine will be married this evening, as soon as it is ready.”

Cassandra felt as though all the air had been forced from her lungs. “I see.” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears.

“And a raven arrived during the night informing me that a delegation from Nevarra is en route to Skyhold. They are coming to escort you back to Nevarra to be married to Lord Thomasz under Progenitor Law.”

Cassandra allowed her shield to slide off her arm, slowly, to rest on the ground against the practice dummy. She nodded in response to Leliana’s words.

“Cassandra….” Leliana stood next to her, her hand on Cassandra’s arm, unexpectedly compassionate.

Cassandra closed her eyes. Well. She had known this was going to happen. It was very strange that, despite this, the news that she was to be married that very day should be such a shock. She breathed in, silently, and out, gently. Opened her eyes and looked at Leliana, who regarded her with steady concern.

“Very well,” said Cassandra. “We knew this was coming, after all. I assume the Neverran delegation will not arrive today or tomorrow?”

“They are some days off,” Leliana confirmed, her had still on Cassandra’s arm. “We have enough time.”

Cassandra nodded. “Good. Good. So… what must I do? To prepare?”

“You will need a witness,” Leliana told her. “Someone willing to give a bit of their blood to the spell. And you should probably speak to Josephine and make sure you both have the same expectations regarding tonight.” Cassandra flushed hotly at that, but nodded. “I will make sure that there are no demands on your time today or tomorrow. You will be able to do what you need to in order to get through this.”

“Thank you,” Cassandra said solemnly. “I am… I am prepared to go through with this. It is very strange, how I feel now, compared to a week ago.”

Leliana gave a small grin. “I must say, I am pleased at how you have stepped up. I have always known you could be resilient and adaptable, and you have not disappointed me. And… you have shown how loving you can be.” Cassandra felt her face redden again. “I am very glad for you, and for Josephine — I think you will be happy.”

Cassandra felt bashful, and glanced away. “I hope so.”

“Very well. I will leave you to the rest of your day. Do make sure you choose a witness. I will let you know when the time approaches. You should have until the evening meal.” With that, Leliana squeezed Cassandra’s arm, then walked off.

Cassandra took a deep breath. So. It was to happen today. She felt a quiver in her body that was not physical, more a tremor of the soul as it adjusts to the idea of what is to come — she had felt this many times, before fighting a mighty enemy, and knew it would pass. 

She took up her shield again and resumed her drills. There was no reason not to try to go about the day as normal. And, she thought with a smile, she was to see Josephine later this morning. It would all be well.

***

After her exercise was finished, Cassandra washed and changed her clothing. She felt remarkably serene. She put milk, sugar, and a generous portion of Antiva Oro tea into her satchel, though she left off the fruitcake this time — Josephine did not seem to appreciate it, so Cassandra was happy to reserve it for herself.

Cassandra decided to venture to the kitchens to see if some nice baking was available. To her considerable surprise, the kitchen mistress bustled to her side as soon as she was through the door, despite Cassandra’s attempts to go unnoticed. Cassandra was immediately suspicious, but the woman was all smiles, congratulating Cassandra on “the happy, happy news!” and wishing her joy. As the kitchen mistress nattered on about “how wonderful it is to be able to find someone special,” she moved around the kitchen, assembling items on a tray, which she presented to Cassandra: cream horns (Cassandra’s very favourite pastry), fresh ground-cherries (Cassandra’s very favourite fruit), and a small bowl filled with sugared almonds (Cassandra’s very favourite sweet). Before Cassandra could form a response other than faltering gratitude, the kitchen mistress bustled her out of the kitchen, imploring her to “go share your goodies with your sweetheart!”

Cassandra wondered briefly at her good fortune, but didn’t stop to question it. She snuck several almonds as she was carrying the tray to Josephine’s study. Just a week ago, Cassandra reflected, she had been dreading this day, but so far it had been going just splendidly.

Her high spirits wavered as she approached the door to Josephine’s study. The door was closed, which was unusual. And clustered outside the door, in apparently tense conversation, were Josephine’s three diplomatic attachés and two runners, and the usual door guard. Cassandra increased her pace, alarmed. “What is happening?” she asked as she approached.

The conversation stopped. One of the attachés spoke. “Forgive me, Lady Cassandra. We are all quite concerned about Ambassador Montilyet.”

“Concerned?” Cassandra’s voice was sharp, and the young man flinched slightly.

“Yes, my lady. Sister Nightingale instructed us all that the Ambassador would not be conducting business today, and that we were to carry on without her direction, which is certainly feasible. But then Ambassador Montilyet arrived in her office and told us that it was to be business as usual, and so we… but then she became agitated, and told us all to leave.” He sounded positively shocked.

Cassandra was uneasy. “I see.” She made an educated guess about the nature of the situation, then arrived at a swift decision. She glanced at the diplomatic staff. “Do as Sister Nightingale instructed. I do not wish to see you near Lady Montilyet’s offices today, or tomorrow. If a situation arises for which you need guidance, seek out Leliana.” Her tone brooked no argument. The staff all departed with apparent relief.

Cassandra looked to the guard. “Open the door for me,” she ordered.

“But the Ambassador said — ”

“I told you to _open the door_ ,” Cassandra repeated, in a tone that had unnerved stouter souls than the door guard. He jumped to follow the order. As she walked through the door, Cassandra told him, in a kinder tone, “Thank you.” Then, in her authoritarian voice, “Do _not_ allow anyone other than Leliana or the Inquisitor herself through this door, until I tell you otherwise. Do I make myself very clear?”

“Very clear, Lady Seeker,” the guard said, the whites of his eyes showing.

“Good.” She nodded at him to close the door, which he did. Cassandra had a brief second of satisfaction that she was still able to intimidate armed and armoured men while carrying, of all things, a tray of cream horns. Then she turned to Josephine’s desk, and all sanguinity left her.

Josephine was sitting at her desk, writing furiously. Cassandra strode across the room, setting the tray on the table before the fire and letting the satchel fall into one of the chairs. She approached Josephine’s desk, but stopped several feet away. “Josephine?” she asked, hesitating.

Josephine’s entire posture was rigid, and she wrote with none of her accustomed grace, the quill scratching roughly over the paper. Her face was contorted and tear-tracks lined her cheeks, though she was not weeping at that moment. Cassandra felt alarm rear up in her chest. “Josephine?” she asked again.

Josephine did not stop writing, but took a shaky breath and said, “I must write to my parents,” in a high, strained voice. “They must know that I am, that I am married this day. Since I am not able to be married out of their house in Antiva, and they are not able to meet my spouse, I must tell them, I must write to them and let them know everything. They must understand…” 

Josephine’s voice was bordering on hysterical, at least compared to her usual measured speech. It was distressing to see Josephine in this state, but Cassandra found herself slipping into the long-ago but not-forgotten mode of the senior Seeker trainee, calmly helping another trainee to cope with an episode of anxiety. She slowly approached Josephine. The desk was littered with papers already covered in messy, half-scratched-out writing, as well as crumbled balls of paper. “Of course,” Cassandra said. “You should write to them. Can I help in any way?”

“No!” Josephine’s voice was drawn as taut as a bowstring. 

Cassandra nodded. “Very well,” she said, gently. “I will put the kettle on.”

Josephine did not acknowledge this. She continued to write rapidly, her breathing ragged. Cassandra noted that she was dressed and coiffed as usual, although there was already a blotchy stain of fresh ink on one sleeve — not something Cassandra had ever seen on the Ambassador’s clothing ever before.

Cassandra retrieved the kettle, pot, and teacups from the shelf, and made the tea at the fireplace. The room was silent apart from the frantic scratching of Josephine’s quill. At one point, as the tea was steeping, Cassandra heard the distinctive snap of the quill breaking, Josephine’s string of hissed Antivan curses, impatient rummaging in a desk drawer, and then the resumed scratching of (presumably) a new quill.

When the tea was ready, Cassandra prepared a cup for Josephine and carried it to her desk. Josephine was in the same posture as before, still writing frantically, her eyes wild. “Here,” Cassandra said softly. “This is Antiva Oro, with milk and sugar.”

Josephine stopped writing, looked at the teacup on her desk with an expression of utter misery, and burst into anguished sobbing.

Cassandra, who had been half-expecting this reaction, was only somewhat taken aback. She recovered quickly, though, plucking the quill out of Josephine’s hand and urging her to rise from her chair. Josephine would not at first be moved, not out of stubbornness, Cassandra thought, but because her weeping was physically debilitating. But, eventually, Cassandra was able to help Josephine to rise and move to one of the chairs in front of the fire. She fished out a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to Josephine, who did not use it to wipe away her tears, but merely clutched it in front of her face as she continued to sob helplessly.

Cassandra seated herself on the floor at Josephine’s feet, placed her hands on Josephine’s knees, and waited for the worst of it to pass.

After a few minutes, the sobbing eased. Josephine’s body relaxed incrementally, but she would not look at Cassandra, and she did not speak. Cassandra gave Josephine’s knees a small squeeze, then rose to her feet. “I will be back in a moment,” she said, before walking to the door leading to the war room.

Kaera and Cullen were in the war room, leaning over the war table onto which they had spread several smaller maps. Both looked up at Cassandra’s arrival.

“Cassandra!” said Cullen in greeting.

“I hear today is the big day,” said Kaera, her expression unreadable.

Cassandra walked toward the sideboard. “Good morning,” she said distractedly. She lifted the flagon of watered wine from its accustomed spot. “May I take some of this?” she asked.

“Certainly,” said Kaera. “Is everything all right?”

“It will be,” Cassandra assured her. She poured a generous amount of the wine into the largest cup available. About to leave again, she hesitated. “Inquisitor,” she said tentatively. “May I… may I speak with you later today? I have something to ask you.”

“Of course,” Kaera replied. “I’ll be in my quarters with some paperwork most of the afternoon. You can stop in and find me there.”

“Thank you.” With that, Cassandra walked back to Josephine’s study with the wine, closing the door firmly behind her, confident that Kaera and Cullen would take the hint and not disturb them.

In the study, Josephine was dry-eyed but pale, staring blankly into the fire. Cassandra pressed the cup into Josephine’s hand. “Drink,” she said. “You will feel a bit better.”

Josephine obediently sipped from her cup. Cassandra settled again at her feet, her hands seeking out Josephine’s free hand where it rested on her lap. The handkerchief had vanished somewhere. She held Josephine’s hand gently, stroking it with her thumbs, running her fingers along Josephine’s soft palm. The tips of her fingers were stained with ink; Cassandra touched each stain tenderly. “You know,” she said, her voice quiet, “the first few times I touched your hands, I was astonished with their softness. My hands are rough and scarred and calloused. I do not think I had ever felt hands like yours, smooth and delicate and beautiful. I could not believe that I was permitted to touch your beautiful hands, to hold them with my coarse hands.” Cassandra looked up; Josephine was gazing at her. “And now, I find I never want to stop touching your hands.” Cassandra pulled Josephine’s hand to her lips, kissed each ink-stained fingertip, every smooth knuckle, then cradled Josephine’s palm against her cheek.

“Oh, Cassandra,” Josephine said, her voice weak and watery.

“Shh. Drink,” Cassandra urged, not moving Josephine’s hand from her cheek. Josephine obeyed. Cassandra watched as she drained the cup, then took it from her and set it on the table. She rose, poured a fresh cup of tea, added milk and sugar, and handed it to Josephine before settling once again at her feet. “Do you want to tell me about it?” Cassandra asked.

Josephine’s face crumpled a little, but she did not weep. “I am sorry,” she said, her voice small. “I am sorry. I am happy, truly; you have made me quite happy, Cassandra, and I am happy to be married to you. When Leliana came and told me that it was to happen this evening, I thought I was perfectly content. I thought I had… had come to terms with what our arrangement would mean. But now I find,” and here Josephine’s voice cracked, and her free hand produced Cassandra’s handkerchief from somewhere, “I find I yearn for… for…”

Cassandra felt her heart sink. “It is understandable,” she said quietly. “I do not think anyone could blame you. I am hardly the person you might wish — ”

“No! No, Cassandra, not _you_ ,” Josephine said quickly. “You are… you are everything I want,” Josephine said, her voice rising. “You are _wonderful_ , and I could not hope for a better partner.” She bit her lip. “It is only that…” She sighed and took a swallow of tea, then set the teacup aside. “I do not know that I ever really thought about my wedding day. Not like some girls do, anyway. I did not ever dream of what dress I would wear, of what flowers I would have, of how grand and fashionable it would be. But this morning… after Leliana told me, after she left… it came upon me so suddenly… a wish for my… my family…” Tears began leaking onto Josephine’s cheeks. She brushed them away with the handkerchief. “And then it came to me that my parents would not be able to see me married, my sister and mother not able to attend me, and I… I….” She sniffed, then clutched the handkerchief to her face. “Oh. I am sorry. I am being so very silly.”

“No. Not silly at all.” Cassandra was gazing up at Josephine, at her face, still beautiful even when ruddy and swollen with her grief. “I cannot pretend that I understand entirely. But I see that this is very important to you. I… I wish things could be otherwise.” Cassandra felt a pressing need to be closer to Josephine, to hold her, to offer comfort and be comforted. She stood, and urged Josephine to rise from her seat, which she did. Cassandra seated herself where Josephine had been, then pulled Josephine onto her lap, putting her arms around her waist, holding her close. Josephine lay her head on Cassandra’s shoulder, placed one hand atop Cassandra’s where it rested on her waist, lifted the other to stroke Cassandra’s cheek. They sat that way for a time, the only sound in the room the soft crackling of the fire.

Eventually, Cassandra spoke; she had arrived at a decision. “When… when things are better,” she began, “when we are no longer under constant threat of danger… then, if we are — if we decide we will remain together, remain joined, then we will travel to Antiva City. And we will be married properly. You will be married out of your parents’ house, and your mother and sister will attend you, and you will have whatever dresses and flowers and finery you desire. I promise you this.”

Josephine had raised her head from Cassandra’s shoulder and was looking at her, wide-eyed. “You mean it?” she breathed. Cassandra smiled and nodded. “Oh!” Josephine exclaimed, then pulled Cassandra’s face toward hers and kissed her, her arms going around Cassandra’s shoulders.

They kissed for long minutes, chastely, with Josephine laughing and smiling at Cassandra in between each kiss, or running her fingers through Cassandra’s hair, her relief evident. But, inevitably, the kissing deepened into passion as Cassandra’s arms shifted around Josephine’s waist. Her hands drifted over Josephine’s hips, feeling the sensuous softness of her body, the lushness of her thighs in Cassandra’s lap. Cassandra could not hold back a rough groan as her tongue brushed Josephine’s. Pleasure thrilled through her body; she delighted in Josephine’s weight on her lap, her body in Cassandra’s arms, her mouth open and hot and supple against Cassandra’s…. 

Cassandra felt desire pulsing deep inside, and she shifted in her seat. Pulling away from Josephine’s lips, she kissed Josephine’s cheek, her jaw, her warm and tender throat. Josephine was making soft breathy noises, her hands on the back of Cassandra’s head, threading in her hair, encouraging everything she was doing. Josephine’s back arched; her hips canted, rolling in Cassandra’s lap, irregularly at first, but then with a rhythm that Cassandra found herself helplessly meeting with her own hips. Her hands gripped Josephine, rocking her, pulling her closer with every motion.

Everything was building and building, and Cassandra _absolutely did not want to stop_ , while at the same time realizing that now was certainly not the time or the place. They were in Josephine’s study, for Maker’s sake! She stilled her mouth and her hands, managed to stop the motion of her body under Josephine’s, and kept her lips pressed into Josephine’s neck while she allowed Josephine to… coast to a stop. Eventually, they were both still, both breathing heavily, Cassandra’s arms around Josephine’s waist, Josephine’s hands on the back of Cassandra’s neck.

Cassandra leaned back to look at Josephine. “I think perhaps,” she said, her voice a little shaky, “that we are getting ahead of ourselves.”

Josephine laughed breathlessly, blushing. Cassandra smiled in delight at Josephine’s blush. She looked into Josephine’s eyes, now clear, no tears. “I am sorry that things are as they are,” Cassandra said. “I wish that I could court you for weeks or months. I wish I could give you the kind of romance that I delight in. I wish that you could be married the way you deserve. I can’t give that to you today. But I promise, I _promise_ , that I will give it to you when I can.”

Josephine smiled, her face filled with joy. “I love you,” she said.

Cassandra drew in a breath, shocked. Her eyes widened. She must have looked terrified, for Josephine laughed again, warmly. “You need not say anything,” she told Cassandra. “I have no expectations of you, Cassandra, I assure you. But… this is something I have wanted to tell you. And… you are so generous and lovely and _beautiful_ ,” Josephine said, stroking Cassandra’s cheek, “that I could not help myself.” She leaned forward and kissed Cassandra’s cheek, then her lips.

Cassandra looked at her in awe, her mind still reeling. But Josephine was standing and smoothing down the fabric of her outfit. “We really must make an effort to be decent, at least for the time being,” she said cheekily. “One never knows when someone will arrive in this room unannounced.”

“I — I told the guard not to let anyone in. I think I was suitably frightening that he will comply. And Kaera and Cullen were in the war room, but they likely know better than to interrupt,” Cassandra said, her voice slightly menacing.

Josephine laughed. “Well then, we can take tea at our leisure! Would you check if the pot is still warm?”

Cassandra did as she was told, while Josephine collected the cup of tea — now gone cold — from her desk, opened the window to toss the contents out into the chill air off Skyhold’s cliffs, then quickly closed it again. They filled both cups and settled into the chairs before the fire.

They spent a very enjoyable morning after that, although Cassandra felt that her limbic system never fully returned to a neutral mode. They talked of this and that — it turned out Josephine _did_ have more than a few concrete ideas about what she would like at her “proper” wedding, though Josephine herself seemed surprised when these ideas emerged. They made a second pot of tea with the Antiva Oro leaves, with Josephine opining about the difference in flavour between the first steeping and second steeping (and gave Cassandra very strict instructions that she was _never_ to steep Antiva Oro tea a third time). They ate every morsel on the platter, with Cassandra recounting, with disbelief, how she had acquired such delicacies from the normally-irascible kitchen mistress. She even fed a number of ground-cherries and sugared almonds to Josephine with her own fingers.

When the tea and food were gone, Cassandra took her leave. “I will let the guard know that all is well, but that you are not to be disturbed,” she said.

“Thank you,” Josephine replied. “I will be able to write a proper letter to my family, now. I will let them know that, although I am married this day, they will still be able to host a proper wedding.” Josephine smiled. “Oh, they will be so happy! And, my dear, they will be very happy to meet you, I know it,” she said, taking both of Cassandra’s hands in hers. Cassandra looked at her doubtfully. Josephine laughed. “It’s true! You will see. My parents would be wanting to meet you even if you were not Nevarran royalty,” Josephine went on, as Cassandra managed not to roll her eyes. “Once we are married, you are part of the Montilyet family, and of course you will receive a very warm welcome. My parents will embrace you as their own, I am sure. My mother will loan you books from her library — she has more than a few in the common tongue — and my father will ply you with wines from the cellar and require your opinion on every one of them. And Yannic will want to ask you a thousand questions about dragons, and Yvette will wish to paint your portrait, and my uncle Gilles will insist on outfitting you in traditional Antivan attire….” Cassandra was not entirely able to keep an expression of trepidation off her face. Josephine smiled at her and placed at kiss at the corner of her mouth. “And, of course, I will protect you from all familial invasions, when you are tired or overwhelmed.” When she pulled back, her expression was more pensive. “Of course, this is all further in the future than any of us can see. For now, we have only today to concern ourselves with.”

“Indeed.” Cassandra leaned in and kissed Josephine lightly, deliberately. She did not say so, but she was rather relieved that chaos, a Nevarran political scheme, and an ancient darkspawn stood between her and the prospect of meeting the Montilyets as a new member of the family. “I will, in all likelihood, see you this afternoon, some time before we are to….”

Josephine blinked. “Yes,” she said softly. “It is still hard to believe that in a matter of hours… but, well. Yes. I will see you later today. And I will go write my letter.” With a last smile, she turned back to her desk. Cassandra took a deep slow breath, and allowed her mind a short moment to hold a single sentiment — _she loves me_ — and let the dazzling glow of it wash over her, before forcing herself back to reality. She looked at Josephine one more time — it was a relief to see her sitting normally at her desk, happily writing, after the state she had been in earlier— and then turned and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Wow, Cassandra's favourite pastry, fruit, and sweet are also *my* favourite pastry, fruit, and sweet! What a coincidence. ;)
> 
> 2) Josephine's meltdown is based partially on a meltdown I witnessed, as a bridesmaid, in a similar (as in "absent family") situation, right before a wedding ceremony. Weddings do tend to bring out people's Big Emotions.
> 
> This is something that I was thinking about from the very start of this story: would Josephine really be so sanguine about being married without her family around? When Trespasser came out, and we saw how a romanced Josephine brought the Inquisitor to be warmly welcomed into the family, and how Josephine had an emotional reunion with her parents, this concern was reinforced.
> 
> I knew I would want to address this later in the fic, although earlier on it served the purposes of the story to have Josephine be the "reasonable" one prepared to go through with the marriage. And now I get to have "writing up the 'proper' marriage in Antiva City" as a future story framework, so, yay!


	16. Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Afternoon of the wedding day. Lots of feelings are happening; Cassandra responds to some of them better than to others.

Cassandra took the midday meal in the mess hall. She was not especially hungry, but today would not be a good day to fail to keep her strength up. She received a number of congratulations on her impending nuptials from colleagues and strangers alike, but everyone seemed to know better than to try to engage her in actual conversation about the situation.

After the meal, she went out to the yard to observe the recruits’ training. Cullen had evidently regained enough of his strength to oversee the training, although Cassandra observed that he did not spar or directly participate in the drills. He asked in an offhand way about the wine she had taken that morning, teasing her a little — “Feeling nervous about tonight, are you?” he asked out of the side of his mouth, so that no one else would hear — and Cassandra blushed and glared at him, though she couldn’t summon any real ire. Her mind was already on coming events.

After a time, satisfied that Cullen had the recruits well in hand, Cassandra made her way to the Inquisitor’s quarters. She nodded at the guard outside the door, knocked, and entered at Kaera’s “Come” from behind the door.

Cassandra climbed the stairs to the Inquisitor’s quarters. Kaera was seated at her desk, with several piles of papers, scrolls, and books in organized piles before her. She looked up as Cassandra approached.

“Ah! Cassandra. How are you?”  “I am as well as could be expected, Inquisitor. And yourself?”

“I think Cullen and I have decided on a response to the situation in Wycombe,” Kaera told her. “We are awaiting more information from our diplomatic liaisons, but….” She sighed.

“I hope everything can be resolved without bloodshed,” Cassandra said, sincerely. She knew that Kaera was not very close to her Clan, but she was not entirely estranged from them. Her concern for Clan Lavellan was entirely understandable, given their precarious situation at present.

“As do I.” Kaera set aside the papers she had been reading and stood. “Come, why don’t we sit comfortably.”

Kaera had a large settee before the fireplace. They sat. “This should not take long,” Cassandra told her confidently. At the beginning of this sealed marriage business, Leliana had suggested that Cassandra ask Kaera to be a witness. And Kaera had been supportive of the plan from the start. Cassandra greatly admired and liked the Inquisitor, and considered her a friend as well as a colleague and leader; since Leliana was standing as witness for Josephine, it made a great deal of sense to ask Kaera to stand as witness for Cassandra. 

Kaera looked at Cassandra expectantly.

“You know that I am to be married to Josephine this evening,” Cassandra began.

Kara’s expression wavered a tiny bit, her lips thinning. “The sealed marriage,” she murmured.  
   
“Yes,” said Cassandra. “We need witnesses. That is, the spell needs witnesses. One for Josephine — Leliana has agreed to be her witness — and one for myself. I was… I was hoping you would do me the honour of being my witness, Inquisitor.”

Kaera closed her eyes and took a breath through her nose. She swayed back slightly.

“I know the prospect of being involved with a spell like this is daunting,” Cassandra hastened to reassure her. “But Leliana has told me that very little blood is needed from the witnesses. A few drops. And it is not blood magic — the blood is used to physically seal the marriage partners, but it does not provide power to the spell. It is completely benign.”

Kaera’s eyes had opened, but she was not looking at Cassandra. She gazed into the fire, seemingly lost in thought. “Kaera…?” Cassandra began, uncertainly.

The Inquisitor rose to her feet and walked to the fireplace, leaning with one hand upon the mantlepiece, still gazing into the flames. “Leliana tells me that you have come around to the idea of being married to a woman… being married to Josephine.”

“I… yes. That is true,” Cassandra admitted. 

Kaera closed her eyes again. “I see.” When she opened them again, she lifted her head to gaze at the ceiling of the room. “A week ago, when this sealed marriage was first proposed, you were… opposed to it.” Kaera’s voice sounded odd to Cassandra. Was the Inquisitor upset about something? Possibly the Wycombe situation was bothering her quite a bit — Cassandra could hardly blame her for this — but then why draw this conversation out instead of agreeing to Cassandra’s request and getting back to her work?

“Yes,” Cassandra said. “I was, certainly. But that is no longer the case.”

“Ah,” replied Kaera. “I am very… happy for you.” She turned to face the fire, her back to Cassandra. “It is a good thing, a very good thing, that Josephine was able — was able to, to persuade you, that she was able to to overcome your… inclinations.”

“Yes,” Cassandra agreed, a small smile on her face. “Josephine is — she is remarkable.”

Kaera was nodding, without turning back to Cassandra. “She is, isn’t she? She is… clever, and charming, and beautiful….” The Inquisitor’s voice was strained, her posture rigid. Cassandra could see that the hand resting on the mantlepiece was fisted and white-knuckled.

“I am lucky to have her,” Cassandra ventured, concerned. Was Kaera ill, or injured? It was unlike her to turn her back on someone she was speaking to, and her voice was still _off_ somehow.

Kaera was still nodding. She took a deep, noisy breath, and let it out. “And she is lucky to have you,” Kaera said, and her voice quavered very slightly.

“Inquisitor?” Cassandra asked uneasily.

“Do you think, Cassandra,” Kaera said, slightly rushed, “do you think that if… if it had been….” Her voice stopped as though she had choked on the words. Cassandra rose from the settee, alarmed. She laid a hand on Kaera’s shoulder.

“Kaera, what is the matter?” she asked. “Are you unwell?”

Kaera shook her head, not speaking.

“Can I help with something? Is it the matter of Wycombe?”

Keara drew an unsteady breath, then let it out slowly. Her slight frame rose and fell beneath Cassandra’s hand. “No,” Kaera said, her voice hoarse. “I… yes. Perhaps I am over-worried about Wycombe.”

“That is certainly understandable,” Cassandra said. “Even if you are not close to your Clan, you will of course be worried about the situation there.”

“It is… perhaps making it difficult for me to focus on… on making this a joyous occasion. For you. And for… for Josephine.”

Cassandra blinked. “This need not be a ‘joyous’ occasion, Kaera,” she said. “It is necessary. There is no need for you, or for _anyone_ to make a fuss over this.”

Kaera finally turned around to face Cassandra. She was smiling, but not her accustomed crooked smile; it was a carefully-held and even smile. She removed Cassandra’s hand from her shoulder, but gave it a reassuring squeeze before letting it go. “Perhaps not,” she said.

Cassandra nodded. “Today, we will be married, and sealed, because the circumstance requires it.” She sighed. “I would kill Thomasz myself if I could, for what he has put us all through.” Kaera’s smile quirked at that. “At any rate, today’s ceremony, necessary as it is, does not need to be an elaborate celebration. I have promised Josephine that there will be a proper wedding, later, when our situation is less dire.”

Kaera lifted her eyebrows. “A… proper wedding?”

“Yes,” Cassandra said, smiling at the memory of how happy Josephine had been at the idea. “Out of her family’s home in Antiva City.”

“That is… a lovely sentiment.”

“Marriage is more than a lovely sentiment, Inquisitor,” Cassandra replied, with fervour. “It is… more, even, than a partnership. It is… the joining of two lives. That is why a proper wedding, with Josephine’s family and everything she longs for, is needed. Marriage is a connection and a commitment. It is the natural result of affection and attraction and… and love.”

Kaera again took a deep breath. “And… you feel all those things? For Josephine?”

“Yes,” said Cassandra, realizing it was true. “I do.” She could not keep a small smile off her face.

Kaera nodded, smiling crookedly at Cassandra, her eyes shining. “Then I would be most honoured to stand as your witness, Cassandra.” She held out a hand to Cassandra.

Cassandra smiled back, and clasped the Inquisitor’s hand. “Thank you, Kaera. This… it does mean a great deal to me. You are my leader, and I respect and admire you. More than that, I count you as a friend. This sealed marriage business has happened so quickly, and has been so unsettling… but you were there from the very beginning, supporting and helping. Thank you.”

Kaera was nodding, her brows knitting, gripped by emotion. “I am truly happy for you, Cassandra. It is a rare thing, to… to love, and be loved.” Kaera drew a breath. “So. Tonight. I will wait until I am summoned, shall I?”

“Yes. Leliana said it is not likely to be until at least the time of the evening meal.”

“Very well.” Kaera turned back to her desk. “I should try to get some more work done. I will see you this evening, Seeker.”

“Yes.” Cassandra turned toward the door. “Thank you again, Kaera.”

***

Cassandra was crossing the yard when she heard her name being called. She looked around the yard but could not identify the speaker until Dagna was almost upon her.

“Seeker Cassandra!” Dagna was a little out of breath as she approached. She was carrying a small cloth bag. “Oh, I am so glad I found you! I have… that… thing you commissioned,” she said, apparently not sure whether or not the torque was to be a secret.

“Oh!” Cassandra had all but forgotten about asking Dagna to create a rune for Anthony’s torque. “Yes. Ah, why don’t you come to my quarters.” They were quite close to the smithy building, and Cassandra found she was attracting enough attention that day without conducting this particular interaction in the open. Dagna nodded in agreement and followed Cassandra up into the smithy loft.

As they were climbing the stairs, Dagna kept up a steady stream of remarks. “Huh, so _this_ is where they make all the mundane weapons and metalwork! You know, I bet I could set up a system of runes for fire and ice that could be deployed to keep the forge at an optimal temperature. But then I suppose those people at the bellows would be out of jobs. I didn’t know anyone lived up here! Doesn’t the noise bother you? You know, I once heard tell of a rune that generates a cone of silence. In one version where it was used for spying, and in another it was used to prevent mages from casting the kind of spells that require recitation to work. If I could make one, you could put it by your bed… no? Well maybe Sister Nightingale could use it for spycraft…”

“ _Dagna_ ,” Cassandra interrupted. “You have the torque?”

“Yes! Sorry! Sorry.” Dagna reached into the bag and removed a small metal box. “I made a box for it, for you, while the rune was compiling, and I set charm to it so that it won’t be lost or stolen… it seemed like the bracelet was a gift, and it’s nice when gifts come in pretty packages, right?”

Cassandra had opened the box’s lid. Inside, on a bed of black velvet, was Anthony’s torque. _No_ , thought Cassandra, _not Anthony’s, not anymore_. Her breath caught. Where the Pentaghast crest had been set, the torque now held a shimmering round stone; it was silvery grey in colour, and Cassandra thought it exuded the same kind of elegant power as a well-made sword. It was a lovely object to behold, on its own. But Dagna had also set seed pearls all around the rune and in the spirals on the ends of the torque, and she had polished the metal of the torque, and sized it down so that it would fit a slim wrist. It was elegant, beautiful, exquisite. “Dagna,” Cassandra said reverently, “this is astonishing!”

“You like it? Oh, I’m so glad! I hoped you’d like the pearls. I wanted to make it really pretty. I mean… it’s for Lady Montilyet, isn’t it?” Cassandra nodded. “Right. So I wanted to make sure it looked really nice, like something she would wear.”

Cassandra looked at the arcanist. “Dagna — thank you. It is perfect. And the rune… what does it do?”

“Oh! It’s really fascinating — I found a way to place a guard ability in the rune. If the wearer is threatened with harm, from a physical blow or a magic blast, the guard in the rune will absorb quite a bit of damage before the wearer will feel so much as a tickle.” Dagna watched as Cassandra carefully turned the torque over and over in her hand. “It’s pretty powerful stuff, more than enough to keep someone safe outside of a major combat situation. The components aren’t easy to come by, but those dragon pearls more than covered what was needed.”

“I am very glad that we both got what we wanted, then. Thank you.” Cassandra set the torque back in the box. She smiled at Dagna, assuming they were finished.

“There’s, uh, one more thing…” Cassandra turned back to the arcanist, eyebrows raised. “Um, they say that you and Lady Montilyet… well, that you’re getting married. Today.” At Cassandra’s stiff nod, Dagna went on. “I heard that it’s all really sudden, because of your cousin or something? Anyway, I wanted to give you something. Bit of a wedding gift.” Dagna had pulled a second box, smaller and made of wood, from the bag she carried. Shyly, she held it out to Cassandra.

“Dagna, that is hardly necessary. But thank you. You are too kind.” Cassandra opened the box. Inside were two slim finger-rings of gold.

“I — I thought you might not have had to time get rings. That’s what humans have, right? Rings, to show you’re married?”

“Yes, rings,” said Cassandra, softly. “Worn on the third finger of the left hand.”

“When I sized down the torque, there was some extra metal, so I decided to make these. Do — do you like them?”

Cassandra lifted one of the rings from the box. It was the same gold as the torque, heavy for its size, polished and strong. It was lovely. “Yes. I do. Thank you Dagna; we would not have had rings, otherwise.” 

Dagna smiled widely, dimples appearing on her cheeks. “That’s wonderful! I mean, I’m really happy for you and Lady Montilyet. It’s really nice when good things happen, and, well, a wedding is a really good thing!”

Cassandra smiled. “Indeed.”

After Dagna had taken her leave, Cassandra looked at the rings a moment longer. It had not once occurred to her to acquire a ring for Josephine. But now they could both wear rings, to signify their marriage. It really was a wonderfully romantic gesture. Thank the Maker for Dagna and her tinkering.

Cassandra locked the rings in her trunk, and was about to do the same with the torque. But she hesitated. She could give the torque to Josephine that evening, after they were married. But Cassandra had not once given Josephine a proper gift during their courtship. True, they had had so little time. But Cassandra found she did not wish to wait. She had told Josephine she would visit her this afternoon. She would take the torque and present it to her; Cassandra found she wished to see Josephine wear it at the ceremony that evening.

Cassandra pocketed the box with the torque safely inside, and made her way to Josephine’s study. She nodded at the door guard before entering — by now, he would know not to let any other visitors through until Cassandra left again. 

Josephine was at her desk. She looked up as Cassandra came into the room, and her face broke into a smile. “Hello, my love,” she said.

Cassandra’s heart jumped to hear the endearment. She was filled with a sense of the romance of this moment — she was presenting a beautiful gift to her intended on the day of their wedding. A token of her devotion and love. She walked up to the desk to stand in front of it, her posture upright and formal. Josephine raised an eyebrow.

“I have brought you a gift,” Cassandra said, pulling the box out of her belt-pouch. All of a sudden, she felt unexpectedly bashful. After everything that she and Josephine had… had done together this last week, it was ridiculous that she should be tongue-tied and awkward over giving a gift! It seemed that she was doomed to gracelessness and blundering, even now, when she wished to be debonair and romantic. Even on the very day of their wedding, Cassandra could not get this right. She held out the box awkwardly.

“A gift!” Josephine sounded delighted, despite Cassandra’s clumsy presentation. She rose and came around the desk to stand next to Cassandra. “Why, thank you!” Josephine accepted the box from Cassandra’s hands. “Shall I open it now?” At Cassandra’s nod, Josephine pulled open the lid. Her eyes widened. “Ah! How beautiful!”

“I am glad it pleases you,” Cassandra said softly. “The torque once belonged to my brother, Anthony.” Josephine’s eyes widened in astonishment. “I had Dagna place a rune of guarding in it — that is what the stone is. It will… it will protect you.” Cassandra felt emotion well up, all awkwardness forgotten. Taking the box from Josephine, she removed the bracelet and slid it onto Josephine’s slender wrist. “It will protect you when I cannot,” she said, her voice rough. She pulled Josephine’s hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to her palm, unexpected tears pricking her eyes. The thought of any harm coming to Josephine was… insupportable. Cassandra intended never to allow her to be exposed to violence, but — at least now, she had the torque, and it would safeguard her. It would have to be enough — it would _have_ to be enough.

Josephine put her arms around Cassandra’s shoulders and tucked her face into the crook of Cassandra’s neck. Cassandra wrapped her arms around Josephine’s back, rubbing up and down, feeling the solid warmth of Josephine in her arms, comforting.

Eventually, Josephine pulled back and looked into Cassandra’s face. “Thank you. Thank you, my love. I shall treasure it.” She tilted her head back for Cassandra’s kiss. Cassandra’s heart shook with the sweetness of it. “As it happens, I have a wedding gift for you as well.” Josephine disentangled herself from Cassandra’s arms, and reached into one of the pockets hidden in her clothing. “I was not sure when would be best to give this to you. But I think that I would like you to have it now, before we are married.” She handed Cassandra a small case of stiff leather with a brass clasp. Cassandra pulled open the clasp.

In the case was an exquisite compass. Cassandra lifted it out with careful fingers. The compass had a polished brass casing. A detailed windrose was painted on the face of it, and its needle danced as Cassandra turned it about, examining it.

“A compass, from one of my family’s ships, from when we had a fleet,” Josephine said softly. “It has led many sailors safely home. And… I hope it will always bring you back to me.”

Cassandra had no words. She set the compass and case on the desk, turned to Josephine, and swept her into her arms, bending her back and kissing her deeply. Straightening, she pressed her lips to Josephine’s ear. “I will always, always come back to you,” she said. “My windrose. My pole star.” Josephine tightened her arms around Cassandra’s waist, clinging to her. Cassandra felt giddy, intoxicated by Josephine’s nearness, by the warm, soft curves of her body in Cassandra’s arms, her perfume in Cassandra’s nose. How was such happiness possible? It was staggering, that she should be so happy. “I love you,” she whispered into Josephine’s ear.

Josephine’s arms tightened again. Her body hitched as though she was suppressing laughter, or tears. She titled her head up, out of Cassandra’s neck, to whisper to her, “I love you too. I love you too.”

They stood together, arms wrapped around one another so tightly they could not have moved, for many minutes. Eventually Cassandra pulled back far enough to cup Josephine’s face in her hands, to look into her eyes. Somehow, despite her awkwardness, despite her utter mishandling of the first days of the sealed marriage plan, this whole affair seemed to have become something else, something Cassandra would never have thought to have for herself. Something that only happened in novels.

Josephine tugged Cassandra’s hands, pulling her over to the chairs before the fireplace. They moved the table and chairs so that they could sit, facing one another, Cassandra holding onto both of Josephine’s hands, running her thumbs across her knuckles. Josephine sighed. “These moments seem so dear,” she said pensively. “Always, there is so much danger in the world. Yet here we sit, in a moment of perfect peace and happiness. I wish it could be like this always.”

Cassandra pulled up her hands to press kisses to her fingers. “We will find more moments like it,” she promised. 

“Good.” Josephine was smiling. “I don’t intend to allow you to stop courting me simply because we are married.”

Cassandra laughed, low and provocative. “I assure you, I have no intention of stopping. I will have you know, I am a very romantic person.”

“Yes, you are,” Josephine agreed, smiling widely. The her expression turned serious. “Cassandra — what is going to happen tonight?”

Cassandra was taken aback. “I — ” She found herself blushing furiously, and glanced down.

“I know what _must_ happen. But… if we were having a proper wedding, there would be a bridal suite, and a designated time for us to retire to it, and… well, as things stand, I do not know what to do. I do not know what you expect.”

“I have not given much thought to… to the details,” Cassandra admitted, flushing. “I suppose — I suppose that, after the ceremony, we should spend the night together? In the same place?”

Josephine’s mouth quirked in a smile. “I suppose so.”

“…Your chambers, then? My quarters are… not quite conducive to…” Cassandra’s blush reignited, and she glanced down once more.

Josephine smiled indulgently. “Yes, my chambers. Good. And we will… we will spend the night together. I hope — that is, if it is what you also want, and I know that sometimes you will need to have your own space and that you are often on missions anyway, but I — I hope you will often spend the night in my bed. With me.” Now Josephine was the one blushing and glancing away.

Cassandra took a breath. “I imagine that will be very agreeable.” Josephine looked at her from beneath lowered lashes, and Cassandra’s breath caught in her throat. 

Cassandra had been looked at a great deal in her life: as a child expected to be decorative and decorous, as a Seeker out and about in the world, as the Right Hand of the Divine. She had also borne her share of prurient looks, from men and women who did not see _her_ , but who saw a political opening, or a fit body, or a legendary hero. Josephine’s gaze did not feel like any of that. Josephine’s gaze made Cassandra feel cherished, desired, _seen_ as she was, not as a story or as an opportunity. 

In scant days, Josephine had blazed through Cassandra’s defences, through all the years of isolating herself and guarding her heart against hurt and rejection. Josephine looked at Cassandra and saw _her_ , a woman shaped by a lifetime of loss, by a bright and abiding faith, by powerful political forces, by a yearning for sweetness and romance than had been tamped down by hard experience; a woman scarred and defensive and deeply flawed. Yet Josephine’s gaze never held judgment or reproof, even when Cassandra had been callous and unfeeling, even when Cassandra had _hurt_ Josephine.

She tightened her grip on Josephine’s hands, overcome by emotion, her breathing suddenly juddering out of rhythm. Josephine, concern etching her features, reached out a hand to trace Cassandra’s cheek. Cassandra turned her face into Josephine’s touch, kissing her soft fingers, revelling in a connection that was not far short of a miracle. After a moment, she took a deeper breath and smiled up at Josephine, a full and wide and open smile that few people had even seen on the Seeker. Josephine smiled back, her fingers tracing over Cassandra’s cheek, her thumb touching the corner of Cassandra’s smiling mouth.

Josephine withdrew her hands and sighed. “As pleasant as it is to spend time in your company, I should go prepare for tonight.”

“…Prepare?” Cassandra asked. Maker, was she expected to… _prepare_ something?

“Oh, it’s nothing extravagant. But I will make sure my chambers are… are ready for us. And I will change my clothing. I seem to have spilled ink on my sleeve. And besides, I would like to wear something special for when I am married to you. And I was hoping… that is, if you wouldn’t mind… would you wear your Seeker livery?” Josephine blushed, but held Cassandra’s gaze. “It is only that you look so very splendid in it. When you wore it to dinner the other day, I could hardly keep my eyes off you.”

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. “Really? I was not sure if you even noticed I was there.”

Josephine laughed. “Oh, Cassandra,” she said, standing and leaning down to kiss Cassandra’s cheek. “I noticed. I noticed you a long time ago,” she said with such fond warmth that Cassandra became flustered and glanced away. This prompted another affectionate laugh and another kiss, then Josephine held out her hands to pull Cassandra to her feet. 

Cassandra collected the compass from the desk. The case had a pair of eyelets so that it could be affixed to a belt, so Cassandra did just that. Her final kiss to Josephine before leaving had a certain nervous energy behind it. The next time they saw one another would be at their marriage ceremony.

In the hallways, striding back toward her quarters, Cassandra silently did her breathing exercises, trying to calm the sudden pounding of her heart. The sun was still high in the Western sky, but she found herself almost quaking at the thought of what was to come that evening; best to put it out of her mind, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you reading this in real time, as it gets posted, I apologize in advance if things slow down. I'm dealing with some low-level chaos IRL, and the next chapters are giving me grief -- trying to get them to a point where I'm happy with them feels like Jacob wrestling the Angel -- so it might be a few days before I get something up next.
> 
> And if I get behind on replying to comments, apologies for that as well. The feedback I've gotten on this fic has been a galaxy of bright spots! <3


	17. Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra puts a ring on it.

In her loft above the smithy, Cassandra laid out her Seeker uniform. Thinking about what was to come, Cassandra realized she would want a change of clothing. She did not relish the thought of leaving Josephine’s chambers the next day in full Seeker regalia — that was sure to attract all kinds of impertinent attention. A set of everyday clothing went into her satchel. Then, on impulse, she added a volume of poetry — not García this time, but a collection of love poetry by several Orlesian poets which included no small number of Cassandra’s favourite poems. She also added a nightshirt, out of a sense of propriety.

Then it occurred to Cassandra that she really ought to have a proper bath. She sighed to herself — once again, the bathing rooms would be busy. But it would simply not do to neglect ablutions this day.

The baths were busy, but not packed. Cassandra was about to wash at one of the spigots before bathing, when she was approached by three young women of the hold. “Seeker Cassandra?” one of them asked.

“…Yes?” Cassandra tried to keep the irritation out of her voice. She intensely disliked banter in bathing places.

“Beg your pardon, Seeker, but… well, we heard say that you’re to be married this evening.”

Breathe in silently, breathe out gently. “…Yes,” said Cassandra, hoping that would be the end of it.

The young women looked at one another, smiling. “We wish you all the joy in the world, Seeker!” The others nodded.

“Thank you,” Cassandra said through gritted teeth.

“We would be greatly honoured, Seeker, if you would let us bathe you.” Cassandra felt her features twist into an expression of pained disbelief. “Oh, no, really, it’s no trouble! We would be ever so honoured!” All three girls surrounded her, taking her by the hands and arms and leading her, over her muttered protests, to one of the three single-person tubs off to one side of the room. She allowed herself to be led, reluctantly, as the only alternatives she could think of would in all likelihood start a brawl (this was… not entirely unappealing, but was hardly the kind of impulse she should give in to on this day of all days). 

These smaller tubs were raised so that attendants could surround the bather, and were hardly ever used. While one of the young women began filling the tub with hot water, the other two led Cassandra, who was flushing in helpless indignation, to the stone bench at the end of the tub. When they had her seated, they handed her a soapy cloth — thank the Maker they didn’t intend to actually wash her! — which was regularly plucked out of her hands and replaced with a fresh one as she cleaned herself. After she was done, they poured buckets of hot water over her, rinsing the soap away. Determinedly grasping her hands and forearms, the young women helped her up the steps and into the tub, now filled. Cassandra’s ire was somewhat mollified when she saw that they had scattered rose petals on the water’s surface, a romantic luxury undreamed-of during most of Cassandra’s adult life. The rest of her irritation drained away almost entirely when the young women stationed themselves around the tub, giving her plenty of space, but heading off several would-be well-wishers with a curt “The Seeker is relaxing now, and cannot entertain you at the moment.” They let her soak in relative privacy and peace.

When she emerged from the tub, one of the young women produced a large, soft towel for her. Another poured oil into her hands so that she could smooth it into her skin and hair, leaving her feeling soft and fragrant. The third brought Cassandra’s basket, with her clothing. Cassandra quickly dressed and expressed her gratitude briefly, but sincerely. The women all beamed. “It is an honour, Seeker, to attend to a bride. May your marriage be full of joy!”

Well. That had not gone too badly, all things considered. And now she was clean and soft and sweet-smelling.

Carrying her basket, she made her way to the kitchen, hoping to get something that she could carry away and eat in her quarters. The kitchen mistress, however, spotted her immediately, and came over to wish her joy (as though she had not also done so that very morning) and ask how the cream horns had been. Cassandra assured her that they had been delicious and very much appreciated, then mentioned that she was just there to get something she could carry away.

Then, of course, nothing would suffice but for the kitchen mistress herself to prepare a tray for Cassandra, which she did with many innuendoes about “this will help keep your strength up” and “that will get the juices flowing” and such. Cassandra, her face burning, was appalled. In the end, she accepted the cloth-wrapped plate from the kitchen mistress and hurried back to her quarters.

After she had eaten, Cassandra tried to read for a short time. But she could not keep her mind on the novel, feeling restless and ill at ease. Eventually, she carefully did her braid and lined her eyes with uncommon precision, then dressed in her Seeker livery. The compass case went on her belt, and the small box containing their rings was tucked into an inside pocket in her doublet. Then, on impulse, she grabbed her satchel and headed to the chantry. No doubt anyone coming to collect her for the ceremony would know to look there when they found her quarters empty.

Cassandra left her satchel inside the chantry door, then knelt in supplication on the steps before the altar. Closing her eyes, she let peace wash over her, dissolve all other thoughts.

_Oh Maker, hear my cry:_  
_Guide me through the blackest nights…_

She meditated through Transfigurations 12, making a sanctuary of her faith, allowing her mind to rest in its shelter, to hold to its permanence, a harbour in the storm. When she had finished, she allowed her devotion to touch upon her own wishes. She prayed for Josephine’s happiness and safety. She prayed that their marriage would be joyful, that she could give Josephine the life she deserved.

The marriage ceremony that would be performed tonight was magical in nature, and legally binding, but it neglected the Andrastian ceremonials. Cassandra supposed that when she and Josephine had their “proper” wedding in Antiva, it would be duly performed by the local Reverend Mother. Josephine did not share Cassandra’s deeply-help and habitually-practiced faith, but she was, technically, Andtrastian. 

Cassandra found her mind wandering away from her devotions, contemplating a life with Josephine. Even a few days ago, Cassandra thought that this marriage was a task, a duty, something she would perform for as long as necessary and no longer. She had not anticipated the depth of dedication and love Josephine would inspire in her. What would her life be like, now? What would she make of herself, now that she had the needs of another person, a cherished and beloved person, to take into account?

These thoughts, perplexing but not anxiety-inducing, swirled in Cassandra’s mind as she knelt.

“Cassandra?”

At her name being called in a low voice, Cassandra shook off her reverie. The Inquisitor stood in the chantry door, framed by the last soft light of dusk. “It’s time,” Kaera said.

Cassandra nodded, rose, and followed the Inquisitor out the door, grabbing her satchel as she walked. As they passed through the chantry-yard, Cassandra looked up to see the southern pole star, gleaming softly in the deep blue sky, like hope.

***

The ceremony was to take place in one of Vivienne’s rooms. Not, to Cassandra’s relief, on the large balcony overlooking the throne room that Vivienne had commandeered as a receiving room; but rather one of the smaller sitting rooms leading off from the balcony. Cassandra followed Kaera up the stairs to Vivienne’s rooms in strained silence.

Before they arrived on the landing, Kaera stopped and turned to Cassandra. Silently, the Inquisitor reached into the vest of her formal outfit and pulled out a small silver flask. Unstoppering it, she took a considerable pull from it before offering it to Cassandra.

Cassandra was not entirely sure she wanted any liquor. She felt she had likely not entirely recovered from Varric’s wicked Ferelden whisky. But when she took stock of the nervous tremors she felt deep in her gut, she decided that perhaps some liquid courage would not go amiss. She nodded her thanks to the Inquisitor, and swallowed a mouthful of the clear, herb-scented spirit that was favoured by the Dalish. Feeling invigorated, she passed the flask back to Kaera, who stowed it in whatever pocket it had come from, and then Cassandra followed her the rest of the way onto the balcony.

Kaera led her through the passage near one of the large windows at the back of the balcony. Outside the last door, a guard was stationed, for which Cassandra was grateful. She did not _think_ that any of Skyhold’s denizens would interrupt the ceremony, but one never knew. The guard opened the door for them, and Kaera and Cassandra stepped through it.

Vivienne was standing before a table with the components and tools for the spell. Beside her stood Leliana, cloaked and hooded as usual. But Cassandra only had eyes for Josephine, who was clad in a sumptuous gown of burgundy satin with contrasting overlays of cloth-of-gold, formally corseted, flaring out to fall around her legs clad in deep red stockings. The cut was classical enough that the extravagance of the materials was not ostentatious. She wore Cassandra’s torque on one wrist, and a necklace of gold set with garnets about her throat. The colour of her gown brought out a beautiful glow in Josephine’s face, and Cassandra thought that perhaps Josephine had never looked so lovely. Josephine looked up as she entered, their eyes meeting. For a moment, it was as though they were the only two people in the world.

“Welcome, my dears,” Vivienne called out. “Good, we’re all here now.”

Cassandra stepped toward Josephine. After a brief, embarrassed hesitation, she reached out and took hold of Josephine’s hands. Josephine gave her a wide-eyed look, equal parts trepidation and tenderness. Cassandra allowed herself a small smile. “You look so lovely tonight,” she told Josephine, who turned pink under her freckles. 

Kaera made a noise behind them. “Ah, sorry to interrupt. I… I am not sure what I should be doing…?”

Vivienne raised one eyebrow. “There isn’t really much needing formally to be done, darling. The spell is ready. I have the contract prepared, and the base for the ink. I require a small amount of blood from the witnesses, and a somewhat greater amount of blood from the betrothed couple. I will spell the ink and draw up the contract, which you will all sign, and well, that’s the long and short of it.” She glanced at Cassandra and Josephine. “Unless the couple has anything planned — vows, perhaps, or speeches?”

Josephine looked to Cassandra — Cassandra was not certain what showed in her face — then back to Vivienne, shaking her head. Vivienne looked from Josephine to Cassandra. “Very well,” she said smoothly. “Let us begin, shall we?” She removed the cover from a small porcelain bowl, then took up her mage staff. She picked up a small sharp-looking knife from the table. “The couple will go first. Cassandra?”

Cassandra let go of Josephine’s hands and moved toward the table. Vivienne handed her the knife. “What do I…?”

“A cut, not too deep, along the inside of your forearm. Hold the cut over the bowl and allow the blood to run into it. I’ll let you know when there is enough.”

Cassandra nodded, a knot of anxiety forming in her chest. Well, no point in drawing it out. She removed her doublet and handed it to Kaera, then rolled up the sleeve of her shirt. Holding her arm over the bowl, she drew the knife along the soft flesh of her forearm in a quick, clean slice. The knife was so sharp that pain did not register for several seconds, until the blood began to seep out. She held her arm over the bowl, allowing her blood to drip into it, for long seconds. It was almost mesmerizing.

“Good, that’s just about enough Cassandra,” Vivienne said. “Kaera, there are bandages and a healing salve on the table there; please attend to the Seeker.”

Cassandra stepped back from the table and allowed Kaera to apply the healing salve and bandage the wound. If Vivienne had made the salve, Cassandra thought, as seemed likely, she wouldn’t even have a mark on the skin by the time she went to sleep. It seemed odd that a wound made to bind her in marriage to Josephine was to be so cleanly and quickly healed. 

“Now, Josephine, dear,” Vivienne was saying. “It’s your turn.” She handed Josephine the knife.

Josephine held the knife as though it were a live creature that might attack. Her eyes were wide. Leliana came up to her side and touched her elbow. “Do you need help?” Josephine nodded mutely. She handed the knife to Leliana, then undid the buttons at her wrist and pulled back her sleeve to expose her forearm. Leliana gently took hold of Josephine’s wrist and guided her arm until it was over the bowl. Josephine screwed her eyes shut and turned her face away. “Deep breath, Josie,” Leliana said, then drew the knife quickly along the tender skin of Josephine’s forearm.

Cassandra felt an irrational urge to spring forward and knock the knife out of Leliana’s hand, to hold and comfort Josephine and tend to the long gash in her arm that was now dropping blood like rubies into the bowl on the table. Josephine’s eyes were still tightly shut, though she did not seem to be in pain.

“That’s enough,” Vivienne said softly. Leliana took up a bandage and the healing salve and tended to Josephine, who looked a little pale but not distressed. Cassandra shrugged back into her doublet and resisted the desire to go to Josephine, to hold her and comfort her.

“Now the witnesses,” Vivienne said, a note of low-level urgency entering her voice. Not hesitating, Kaera stepped forward, picked up the knife, pushed back her sleeve, and made a cut in her forearm. Her blood dripped into the bowl. At Vivienne’s nod, she stepped back. Cassandra was ready with a bandage and the salve, although Kaera’s cut was smaller and shallower than those that she and Josephine now bore. Leliana also made quick work of her cut, bandaging it herself before replacing her gauntlet.

As soon as Leliana was finished, Vivienne stepped forward. With a graceful motion of her hand and a sweep of her staff, she ignited a flare of spirit-fire that glowed in the air around her and the bowl. After the flare died away, she set her staff aside, seated herself at the table, took up a pen, and began writing on the prepared sheet of paper using the contents of the bowl as ink.

Cassandra moved to stand beside Josephine. Unwilling to break the silence, she settled for putting her hand on the small of Josephine’s back and rubbing in small, comforting circles. Josephine’s strained posture relaxed a fraction at her touch. The atmosphere in the room was tense, Cassandra thought, and not at all the kind of pleasant, happy, romantic ambience she would hope for at a wedding. She supposed that this would make it all the more meaningful when she and Josephine were able to have a proper marriage ceremony, with all the trappings of an ideal romance. She felt a tiny smile pull at her mouth; she found herself actually looking forward to the prospect of a real wedding. She had no doubt that it would be as romantic as anything in her novels, especially if Josephine was planning it.

Vivienne finished writing with a flourish. “There’s the contract written. Now it requires signatures, then one final casting to complete the seal.” She stood and offered the pen to Cassandra. Cassandra duly signed her name (first and last names only, no need for the pomp of Nevarran multiple nomination here) on the line Vivienne indicated to her. The ink was viscous, black tinged with red. It shimmered with unrealized spirit magic. Cassandra stepped quickly away from the contract as soon as she had signed, and handed the pen to Josephine.

Josephine signed the contract in her elegant hand. Then Kaera and Leliana signed their names on the lines for the witnesses. When this was complete, Vivienne took up her staff again, and once more summoned the spirit magic that would seal the contract. The harsh flare of Vivienne’s casting subsided to a warm glow suffusing the paper of the contract, then vanished. When her eyes had cleared, Cassandra saw that the dark ink had turned to a brilliant, shining gold on the paper.

“Well, there’s the hard part done,” Vivienne remarked blithely. “I do find that the gold colour of ink infused with this kind of spirit magic is delightful — no metallurgist could match it. It will persist until sunrise; consummation must take place before then.” Vivienne took up the contract and rolled it, then set it in an open box lying on the table. She closed the lid with a firm snap. “There! I’ve placed a charm on that box — the contract will be quite secure, quite private. Vivienne looked around the room, smiling. “Such melancholy faces! But this ought to be a happy occasion, if for no other reason than we have, tonight, foiled the plotting of the Mortalitasi. No, despite the fact that the Seeker and the Ambassador will necessarily be anxious to retire for the night,” Vivienne continued with a smirk that made Cassandra blush hotly, “we really ought to take some time for a little celebration — don’t you think?” Vivienne walked to the door, opening it. She called over her shoulder. “Come, my dears. I have a very fine bottle of Orlesian sparkling wine in my conservatory.”

Vivienne led them through the passage to a door leading to a glassed-in room off the main balcony. It was filled with a variety of potted plants, some of which Cassandra vaguely recognized. The air was balmy and fragrant. As they entered, Vivienne gestured with her staff and a number of oil-lamps flared to life, filling the space with warm light.

Cassandra had offered her arm to Josephine as they walked to the conservatory, somewhat in a daze. She now turned to face Josephine, taking both of her hands. They stared at each other with wide eyes. Cassandra could think of absolutely nothing at all to say. Perhaps this was why the Andrastian marriage ceremony involved recited vows; a moment like this, being joined to another person, was too significant, too immense for one person’s words to encompass. Cassandra raised her hand to caress Josephine’s cheek, smiling at her, feeling vulnerable and tender.

Leliana cleared her throat. Cassandra abruptly looked up. The others were all looking at them. Cassandra lowered her hand and blushed furiously.

“This is all very sweet,” Leliana interrupted, smiling fondly at them. “But time marches ever onward.”

“Very true, my dear,” said Vivienne, “and the wine will only stay cool for so long.” She walked over to a shelf set in the stone wall where the conservatory was joined to the main keep, and pulled a large glass bottle out of a bucket packed with snow. She handed the bottle to Cassandra. “If you’ll do the honours, darling?”

Cassandra had seldom had cause to open bottles of sparkling wine; but everyone was looking expectantly at her, so she hastily removed the wire cage securing the oversized cork, then eased the cork out as gently as she could. It emerged with a soft popping sound. Vivienne, Leliana, and Josephine all applauded, smiling. Cassandra caught Kaera’s eye and they exchanged a bemused look — they both tended to find such Orlesian customs somewhat ludicrous, especially given that all three women were not, in fact, actually Orlesian. Kaera’s mouth quirked into a smile. “Yes, well done, Seeker. You have vanquished that fearsome bottle!”

Josephine laughed, light and musical; Cassandra could not help but smile. It had been a rather sombre ceremony, and it was good to see Josephine happy. It had, truly, been a very long day, for all of them.

The solemn mood lifted after that — helped, no doubt, by the delicate stemmed glasses of the sparkling wine that Vivienne passed around and refilled frequently — as Leliana and Vivienne shared stories from grand weddings they had attended in the past. Shoes, clothing, fashion, and various salvoes in the Game were the focus of their enthusiasm, so Cassandra mostly listened, sipped her wine, and stole glances at Josephine. 

Cassandra felt decidedly not calm. She was trying very hard not to think too much about the night ahead, but her thoughts inevitably strayed, and when they did they were as likely to be embarrassingly lascivious as they were to be nerve-wrackingly terrifying. When her thoughts were not racing ahead, they were looking back, contemplating the fact that _she was now actually and in fact a married woman_ , as inconceivable as that would have been less than ten days ago. The wine, alas, was not helping her equilibrium, though that may have been because she had barely touched hers at all.

Soon enough, Kaera set down her glass. “I’ve been attending Scout Harding’s dance lessons,” she said, apologetically. “If I don’t appear, they’ll have an odd number of partners, and… well….”

Josephine stepped forward and touched Kaera’s arm. “There is no need to stay. Thank you so much for your help tonight, Inquisitor.” 

“Yes,” said Cassandra. “It was an honour to have you as a witness.”

The Inquisitor gave a faint smile. “Of course. It is good to see you both happy, and I’m certainly very glad that this will resolve the issue with Lord Thomasz.” She took a breath. “Well….” She nodded at Cassandra, who returned the gesture, then took her leave.

“I believe I will also withdraw for the night,” Leliana said, setting aside her glass. She went to Josephine, clasped both her hands, and kissed both her cheeks. “You make a beautiful bride, Josie. I hope I can expect an invitation to the wedding in Antiva City.”

Josephine smiled. “Of course, my dear friend. I would not dream of not inviting you.”

Leliana came to Cassandra and, to Cassandra’s bewilderment, also took her hands and kissed her cheeks in the Orlesian fashion. “Congratulations on your marriage,” Leliana told her. “I know you will do everything you can to make Josephine happy,” she added. Anyone who did not know Leliana as Cassandra did might have missed the threatening undertone of her words.

“You need not doubt it,” Cassandra replied firmly, meaning it. Leliana nodded, then vanished out the door.

“I suppose that brings the festivities to an end,” Vivienne said. “Probably for the best, since the contract… well, you’re both aware that you’re operating under a rather specific time constraint. There is a little under eleven hours until sunrise. This may seem like more than enough time to fulfill the seal’s conditions, but this isn’t something you should leave to chance. I’ve been given to understand that Lord Thomasz’s delegation would arrive at Skyhold’s gates before I would be able to acquire the components to cast another sealing spell. I really don’t like to put this pressure on you, my dears,” Vivienne went on, her expression sincere, “but I would be remiss if I did not remind you that this is not merely a love match. There’s quite a bit at stake here.”

Cassandra and Josephine glanced at one another. Cassandra felt a nervous shiver quaking through her body.

“Thank you, Vivienne,” Josephine was saying. “We certainly could not have done any of this without you.”

“Too true,” Vivienne replied, her tone jovial, her expression serious.

Cassandra collected her satchel from near the conservatory door, then offered her arm to Josephine. They were able to get to Josephine’s door without encountering anyone other than the guard stationed outside her chambers for the night. They nodded to him as they passed into Josephine’s rooms.

Cassandra carefully latched and locked the door. When she turned around, she gasped.

Bouquets of flowers sat on the tables, the mantlepiece, and each windowsill. The room was lit partially by the well-tended fire, and partially by several candelabra. She looked at Josephine in wonder.

Josephine had a small, pleased smile on her face. “Well. I see that my orders were followed.”

Cassandra put down her satchel and crossed the floor to Josephine. “You planned this?” she asked, delighted, as she circled Josephine’s waist with her hands.

“I wished to make it romantic for you,” Josephine said, her hands sliding up Cassandra’s chest to cup her face. “Do you like it, my love?”

For an answer, Cassandra leaned in and kissed Josephine very thoroughly, her arms tightening around Josephine’s waist, her hands sliding over the smooth satin of her gown. The nervous energy she had been feeling had begun to shift into arousal when Cassandra felt the box in her pocket dig into her chest uncomfortably.

She pulled back. “Ah, sorry,” she said to Josephine, who had no doubt felt it too. Cassandra removed her doublet entirely, taking the box out as she did. “I… I have rings. Wedding rings. For us.” 

Josephine raised her eyebrows, smiling. “You do?” She reached for the box. Glancing at Cassandra, she raised the lid of the box as Cassandra held it. “Oh!” she exclaimed softly as she saw the two golden rings, gleaming in the candlelight. 

“Dagna made them, with gold from the torque,” Cassandra told her, glancing at the bracelet on Josephine’s wrist.

“Oh!” Josephine said again, softly. “How wonderful. We shall have rings made of the same gold.”

Cassandra smiled, seized with the romance of such a notion. “Yes. No matter how far away I am, part of us will always be together.” Unable to suppress her smile, Cassandra carefully removed one ring, and held the box out for Josephine to take the other. Setting the box aside, Cassandra simply took Josephine’s left hand in hers and slipped the ring onto Josephine’s third finger (miraculously, it fit; Cassandra briefly wondered if Dagna had somehow worked a charm into the metal to fit perfectly). “One gold, one life, one heart,” she said, quietly, her heart soaring. 

Josephine, in her turn, slid the other ring onto the third finger of Cassandra’s left hand, smiling widely, then clasped Cassandra’s hand to her chest, her eyes bright. Cassandra raised her other hand to Josephine’s cheek. Josephine was so perfectly beautiful, splendid in burgundy satin, candlelight reflecting from her glossy hair and shimmering necklace, her face glowing, her eyes bright. Cassandra drew an unsteady breath. How unimaginably blessed she was, to be joined to this brilliant, gracious, radiant woman. Cupping Josephine’s precious face with both hands, Cassandra pulled her into a kiss, and another, and another, stroking her velvety cheeks with her fingers (it seemed like sacrilege, that she should touch Josephine’s creamy, perfect cheeks with her calloused fingers), pressing her her body close to Josephine until there was no space between them at all.

Cassandra’s hands slid around Josephine’s neck, over her shoulders, down her back, to enfold her in a passionate embrace. The kiss deepened, opened, and Josephine made a quiet humming sound that lit a thousand sparks in Cassandra’s chest. Josephine’s fingers touched the skin of Cassandra’s throat, just above the collar of her shirt, caressing, teasing. Cassandra could not seem to get enough breath, but it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter even a little. All that mattered was Josephine’s silky mouth, her delicate fingers, the deep curve of her corseted waist, the flare of her hips, the softness of her thighs pressed against Cassandra’s. Cassandra was delirious, breathless with desire. 

When Josephine pulled back, braced her forearms against Cassandra’s collarbones to hold her away, Cassandra groaned in frustration. But Josephine just laughed breathily. “We need not rush, my love,” she said, smiling at Cassandra, her eyes dark and sparkling. Cassandra, despite everything, actually blushed. Josephine pulled her down to place a closed-mouth kiss on her lips. “Let me go and change my clothing — into something that will… let us get a little closer.” Cassandra’s heart bucked in her chest. Josephine stepped back from her and, with one last glance over her shoulder, stepped through the door into the next room, pushing the door softly shut.

Taking several deep breaths, Cassandra attempted to attain equilibrium. Thinking of something, she pulled back her sleeve and tentatively lifted the bandage covering her forearm. The cut from the ceremony was no more than a pink line on her skin. Cassandra removed the bandage and pulled down her sleeve.

When she felt she could move her legs once more without falling over, she retrieved her satchel, took the book of poetry out, and sat before the fire. She paged through the volume, looking for a poem, a verse, a line, _anything_ that she might be able to focus on. After all, it was her wedding night; she was surrounded by candles, by flowers, by every gesture of romance. If there was ever a time to get lost in a love poem, it was now. Yet concentration eluded her.

Slowly, over the course of several minutes, her blood cooled, and her mind turned (at least partially) away from her pleasure in being close to Josephine. But she was still not able to focus on the poetry. She felt an unpleasant quaking start up in her body, a nervous rattle that both paralyzed and alarmed.

She was _married_. She was _married_. To _Josephine_. She was _married_ and _about to make love to Josephine_. Within minutes, Josephine would come back into the room, and Cassandra would have to… would have to… what, exactly? Maker, she had _no idea what to do_. Reading about such things was very different from actually _doing_ them. 

And — this was an alarming thought — she would have to be… have to be _naked_ before Josephine, naked _with_ Josephine. This was very different from bathing or quickly changing clothing. Josephine, who was was beautiful, lush, womanly, would doubtless be disappointed in Cassandra — in the blocky, severe lines of her body, her unyielding flesh, her scarred and rough skin. Clothed, Cassandra supposed herself attractive enough, but stripped bare… she did not think her looks would stand to scrutiny. 

Even if they could, even if she were soft and lovely and curved, she had no experience, no familiarity with sensuality or lovemaking. It had been many years since… and that had been with a man, and both of them inexperienced, unsophisticated. Cassandra shook to think of how inadequate a lover she was. How would she know even how to start to please Josephine? To consummate their marriage before sunrise? This was a disaster.

_Maker_ , what had she gotten herself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might still be a bit laggy, but I am aiming to have the next chapters out every few days. <3
> 
> A note: Oh, gosh, the bath scene is totally ridic, but I somehow got the image of it in my head -- Cassandra being fussed over, looking like if someone tried to give Grumpy Cat a bath -- and I couldn't resist. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	18. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The course of true love never did run smooth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the rating for this fic is now "Explicit." It's probably closer to a hard "M", but better safe than sorry.

When the latch of the door to the next room clicked open, Cassandra started like a nervous horse. Josephine was humming a tune Cassandra didn’t recognize, sounding happy and relaxed. The tremble inside Cassandra intensified; she dared not turn to face Josephine.

Gentle hands touched her shoulders. “My love?” Josephine asked. Cassandra felt a kiss on the back of her neck and shivered. Why couldn’t she get her breathing under control?

Josephine’s hands left her shoulders. Cassandra blinked, breathed, tried to focus her thoughts. Then Josephine stepped into her field of vision.

She was wearing a peignoir set of soft white fabric. The lacy over-robe was unbuttoned and open. The nightgown underneath was low in the neckline, exposing Josephine’s freckled décolleté. The fabric was gathered under her bust; it billowed around her, caressing the curves of her body, and swirled, lace-edged, just above her bare feet. Her hair was loose; the first time Cassandra had ever seen it thus. It fell in lustrous waves past her shoulders. She had removed her necklace, and the only ornaments she wore were the gold torque and her wedding ring. Her expression was tender and affectionate, her eyes warm, her smile sweet.

A powerful wave of love surged through Cassandra, almost like a physical blow. She swayed where sat, wide-eyed, longing and anxiety churning together. She felt utterly undone, addled, lost. Broken.

Catching a glimpse of Cassandra’s face, Josephine became concerned. “Cassandra? What is the matter?” She sat next to Cassandra on the settee, taking her hand. Cassandra closed her eyes. Josephine’s hands were so warm, and so soft. She could feel the heat from Josephine’s hip, pressed against hers where they sat. She _wanted_ , she wanted to push Josephine down on the settee and ravish her, she wanted to hide out of misery and shame, she wanted to run far away, she wanted Josephine to have a better partner than Cassandra was capable of being.

Josephine’s warm hand slipped behind Cassandra’s back and began to move in slow circles. For several minutes they sat like this, their only motion the soothing movement of Josephine’s hand and the rise and fall of Cassandra’s chest as she breathed in, out, in, out. Then Josephine leaned over and softly kissed Cassandra’s temple. Her hair, loose and soft, brushed against the sensitive skin of Cassandra’s neck. Cassandra opened her eyes, took a deep breath, released it, and the tension fell from her like water poured from a vessel. 

“I am sorry,” Cassandra said, her voice hoarse.

“There is nothing to apologize for,” Josephine murmured, her lips still at Cassandra’s temple.

Cassandra shook her head. “Tonight should be… _wonderful_. It _is_ wonderful,” she added, turning to Josephine, pressing their foreheads together. “ _You_ are wonderful. But I am….” Cassandra closed her eyes again. Why could nothing ever be simple, be easy? “I do not know what to do. I… I am not….”

Josephine kissed her lips, sweet and gentle. She kept one hand at the small of Cassandra’s back. Her other hand rested on Cassandra’s knee. “You are everything you need to be,” she said. “You do not need to ‘know’ anything. No one ever does, coming together with another person for the first time. It is never like it is written about in books.” Cassandra heard the smile in Josephine’s voice. “Nor would I want it to be. I want this to be _us_. Coming together, finding each other, finding out how to please each other.” The hand on Cassandra’s knee slid up her thigh to rest on her hip. Josephine’s thumb rubbed at the crease where her leg met her abdomen, and Cassandra’s breath caught. “We will find the way together.”

Cassandra pulled back just enough to look at Josephine’s face properly. Josephine was smiling, her face filled with happiness and anticipation. Perhaps… perhaps this _was_ simple, perhaps it was only Cassandra making this more complicated than it needed to be. Perhaps, if she just allowed herself to reach out and touch, to take what she wanted…. 

Cassandra raised both her hands to touch the sides of Josephine’s neck, running the tips of her fingers over her soft skin. Josephine’s smile widened, her fingers tightening on Cassandra’s hip, her body shifting in a way that lit a flash of desire all along Cassandra’s skin. Cassandra’s fingers traced down, touching the skin where Josephine’s neck met her shoulders, exposed by the nightgown; she ran her fingers along the delicate line of Josephine’s collarbones, back up her throat where her pulse fluttered beneath the skin, then — greatly daring — Cassandra gently ran her fingers through the impossibly soft strands of Josephine’s hair, feeling it slide through her fingers like silk. “Beautiful, beautiful,” she murmured, looking into Josephine’s eyes.

“My love,” Josephine said, her voice husky. She pushed herself forward, pressing her hand into Cassandra’s hip, kissing Cassandra, her lips open and demanding. Cassandra was not entirely expecting her movement, and fell back onto the seat of the settee before she could catch herself. But Josephine followed her, her lips never leaving Cassandra’s. Cassandra found herself mostly on her back, mostly on the settee, with Josephine mostly on top of her. 

Cassandra’s arms automatically came around Josephine, holding her, making sure she did not topple onto the floor. The fabric of Josephine’s nightgown was very fine, and Cassandra was acutely aware of Josephine’s flesh beneath her hands as she pulled her more fully on top of herself. Cassandra braced one leg on the floor, moving the other onto the settee. Josephine, still kissing Cassandra, lifted and shifted her body, until Cassandra’s leg was pinned beneath Josephine, between her own legs. Then, with a low hum of pleasure, Josephine settled her full weight onto Cassandra, slipping her hands from Cassandra’s hips up her ribs, her tongue sliding against Cassandra’s, her body undulating.

The crest of desire that swelled in Cassandra was extraordinary, driving away anxiety and tension. Josephine’s kisses were long and slow and deep, exhilarating and intoxicating. Cassandra’s hands roamed over her body, feeling her warm and writhing. Cassandra had never felt Josephine’s body like this, uncorseted, uncinched, sumptuous and soft. Caressing the lavish swell of Josephine’s hips, the deep curve of her waist where her flesh coiled with every wanton arch of her back, the delicate points of her shoulder blades, the warm sweep of her back, Cassandra’s own body responded helplessly, her hips surging up to meet each motion, heat pulsing between her legs, her breasts aching, passion rippling through her.

Josephine’s hands pressed into Cassandra’s ribs, then bunched in the fabric of her shirt, tugging it up, slipping her warm fingers over Cassandra’s bared skin. Her wandering fingers teased at the edge of the breast band Cassandra wore, then up to brush the outside edges of her breasts. Cassandra arched abruptly, breaking off their kiss with a gasp, blood pounding in her veins. Josephine stilled, looking at Cassandra, gauging her response. Cassandra curved up into Josephine. “Yes,” she whispered, “yes.” Josephine smiled, then leaned back down to kiss Cassandra again, and again, and again, humming her pleasure into Cassandra’s mouth.

Josephine’s hands slid from Cassandra’s sides, pressing into the settee, pushing herself up. Cassandra, breathless, gazed at her, taking in the soft-looking, freckled skin of Josephine’s throat, the swell of her breasts swaying with her movement. Through the fine fabric of her nightgown, Cassandra could see her nipples, dark and peaked. _Maker_ , she thought, closing her eyes and biting back a groan. “Cassandra,” Josephine breathed. Cassandra opened her eyes. Josephine was looking at her, such naked desire on her face that Cassandra’s breath seized. “Cassandra,” she said again, her voice raw, “ _please_.” She arched her back, presenting herself to Cassandra.

Slowly, slowly, savouring every motion, every hitch in Josephine’s breathing, Cassandra slid her hands up from Josephine’s hips until they pressed gently into the underside of her breasts. Josephine moved her body lower, further into Cassandra’s touch. Eyes wide, astonished at her own audacity, Cassandra moved her hands up, rubbing her palms over the stiff buds of Josephine’s nipples. Josephine threw her head back, giving a sharp cry of pleasure, her hips rolling.

Thrilled at this response, Cassandra kept touching, sliding her hands over Josephine’s breasts, her fingers playing at Josephine’s hard nipples. Her own arousal was nearly agonizing in its intensity; she ached, she burned, she _wanted_. Josephine was so beautiful like this, and Cassandra wanted more, wanted everything.

Josephine abruptly sank forward to capture Cassandra’s lips in a searing kiss. Cassandra’s hands were trapped between their bodies; she continued to move her fingers, and Josephine writhed, moaning into Cassandra’s mouth. Then Josephine pulled back just enough to look at Cassandra. “My love,” she said fervently, “please, let us move to the bed.”

Beyond speech, Cassandra merely nodded. Josephine slid off Cassandra, off the settee, standing and holding out her hands to Cassandra. Taking Josephine’s hands, Cassandra stood unsteadily. Impulsively putting her arms around Josephine, she pulled her close, pressed her lips into the warm skin of Josephine’s neck, kissing up to her ear where she whispered “You are _incredible_ , every part of you.”

Josephine laughed, a high breathless sound. “And you, my love, are wonderful beyond anything I could have imagined. But come, _come_.” Reluctantly, Cassandra loosened her grip. Smiling, Josephine took her hands and pulled her through the door into the next room. The bedroom was darker than the sitting room, lit by a smaller fire and a single candelabra in the corner of the room. The bed was not grandiose, but it was certainly big enough for two who wished to be close. Flowers had been strewn across the top of the blankets, which had been turned down.

Josephine pulled Cassandra to the edge of the bed and urged her to sit, then leaned down and kissed her once before kneeling to tug off Cassandra’s boots. That done, she rose and pulled off her robe and tossed it onto a chair against the wall; she was now clad only in her nightgown. 

Josephine straddled Cassandra’s lap, leaning in to kiss along her neck. Cassandra’s hands slid around Josephine, pulling her close, aware that, in this position, Josephine’s nightgown was pushed up her thighs, nearly up to her hips. Boldly, Cassandra slipped one hand down Josephine’s hip, and further, until her palm rested on the silken skin of Josephine’s thigh. Josephine’s moaned softly into Cassandra’s ear; encouraged, Cassandra slid her hand up, relishing the warm softness of Josephine’s skin, until her hand rested on Josephine’s bare hip, her thumb tracing circles, her fingers tightening and loosening gently, breathless with her desire for Josephine, her desire for _more_.

Suddenly, Josephine leaned back. Her eyes locked onto Cassandra’s, she gathered the hem of her nightgown in both hands, and in a single motion pulled the entire garment over her head and off, tossing it aside. She looked at Cassandra, her eyes wide, her expression vulnerable and unsure, as though she were herself shocked at her action.

Cassandra was momentarily paralyzed, slack-jawed and staring at the naked woman in her lap. Her eyes swept over Josephine’s body, then up to her face. “Oh, love,” Cassandra said, voice thick with desire, “you are perfect. You are perfect.” Cassandra placed her hands on Josephine’s hips, leaned forward, and kissed her tenderly. “You are completely perfect,” she whispered between kisses. She pulled Josephine tightly into herself, lost in the lush curves of her body, the impossible softness of her skin, the insistent press of her tongue and suppleness of her lips. Josephine hummed in pleasure with every kiss; the sound sent thrills through Cassandra’s core.

Josephine snuck her hands up between them, to Cassandra’s throat, undoing the first tie of her shirt. Cassandra froze, alarmed. Josephine stopped immediately, leaning back, her breathing still heavy. “My love… is this all right?” she asked. “I would very much like to see you, to touch you.” One of Josephine’s hands strayed up to caress Cassandra’s cheek, reassuring and comforting.

Cassandra drew a shaky breath. It would be despicably cowardly, and grossly unfair of her to insist on remaining clothed when Josephine sat bare in her arms, giving Cassandra everything, trusting her completely. She nodded. Josephine leaned forward and kissed her, stroking her cheek. When she leaned back, she pulled loose the top tie of Cassandra’s shirt, then gently undid the remaining ties, parting the fabric and exposing Cassandra’s torso. Cassandra shivered, partly from arousal, partly from anxiety, unsure of what Josephine was thinking.

Josephine seemed far from unsure, though her movements were unhurried. Gazing at Cassandra, she ran her fingers up the flat planes of Cassandra’s belly, then along a jagged scar, then over her ribs, then she placed her warm palms on Cassandra’s breasts, over the band that still held them, sending a spike of pleasure through Cassandra’s body. Josephine hummed deep in her throat, smiling, and said “You are unspeakably beautiful, my love.” Whatever she saw in Cassandra’s face caused her to smile more widely and shake her head. “You have no idea how alluring I find you, do you? Well. Let me show you.”

Josephine leaned in and kissed Cassandra, her tongue slipping into Cassandra’s mouth, hot and silky. Cassandra lost herself in the pleasure of just kissing, of feeling Josephine’s warm skin against hers. Josephine gently pulled her shirt down her shoulders and off her arms, discarding it then wrapping her arms around Cassandra again, kissing her, kissing her, kissing her. 

When Josephine began kissing along Cassandra’s jaw, down her neck, her hair brushed against Cassandra’s bare shoulders, exquisitely soft. Josephine placed gentle bites and gentler kisses along Cassandra’s throat, slowly moving lower and lower. Cassandra felt Josephine’s fingers working the ties at the front of her breast band, felt the band loosen and then fall away entirely. Then Josephine’s mouth was at her breast, supple lips and her hot tongue pressing into the sensitive skin, and Cassandra closed her eyes and arched her back, her breathing ragged. When Josephine put her mouth to one of Cassandra’s nipples, stroked her tongue over it and then gently pulled at it with her lips, Cassandra’s hands threaded heedlessly through Josephine’s hair, pressing her closer, begging wordlessly for _more_. Josephine’s mouth moved to her other breast, lavishing the same attentions there. Her hand came up, fingers rolling the peak of the breast her mouth had left. Pleasure washed over Cassandra, gathering in a heavy throbbing knot between her legs. Shamelessly, she arched into Josephine’s mouth, her hands pulling Josephine’s head closer, lost in desire.

Josephine moved her head up, kissing Cassandra’s mouth, urging her to move further back on the bed. She complied, pushing herself back until she lay against the pillows, flower petals scattered all around her. Josephine moved up to kneel beside her, her eyes sweeping over Cassandra, her gaze heated. Cassandra felt delirious with desire, she felt beautiful, powerful, wanted.

Josephine’s hands went to Cassandra’s belt buckle, then stilled, looking to Cassandra for permission. Cassandra was so far gone with passion that she just nodded. She _wanted more_. Josephine’s deft hands undid her belt buckle, then the tie on her trousers; Cassandra lifted her hips so that Josephine could slide the garment off. Impatient, desperate, Cassandra surged up and put her arms around Josephine, pulling her back down on top of herself even as she kicked the trousers off entirely.

Josephine yelped and laughed out loud as Cassandra pulled her down. Cassandra quickly stopped her mouth with a kiss, sliding her tongue into Josephine’s mouth and tightening her arms around her. The whole of Josephine’s body pressed onto Cassandra, supple and warm, their breasts sliding together, hips rocking in unison. One of Josephine’s thighs slid in between Cassandra’s legs, rubbing tantalizingly, and Cassandra gasped, her hips pitching up. She hooked one leg around Josephine’s, pulled her closer with her arms, kissing her deeply, drowning in pleasure. Helplessly, she rocked her body, riding Josephine’s thigh.

It was incredibly pleasurable, but it wasn’t enough. Groaning, Cassandra tossed her head back against the pillow, still wound as tight as a steel spring, pulsing with desire.

Josephine took advantage of the sudden laxity in Cassandra’s embrace to slide down her body, pressing kisses as she went. She put her mouth to Cassandra’s breasts, tongue and lips and teeth, teasing, tasting. Cassandra’s back arched, her body twisting with the intensity of her pleasure. Josephine slid lower still, her hair trailing enticingly over Cassandra’s skin. She pressed kisses to Cassandra’s belly, the corded lines of muscle knotting and twitching under Josephine’s ministrations. She ran her tongue along each scar. She kissed the sharp point of Cassandra’s hipbone. The dip where her thigh met her abdomen. The thatch of wiry hair on the mound of her sex.

Cassandra, shocked, pushed herself up on her elbows. Josephine did not raise her head, but turned her eyes up to Cassandra, and, very deliberately, pressed another kiss just above the apex of Cassandra’s sex. “My love,” Josephine said, her voice low and throaty. Cassandra could _feel_ the slight puff of air from her speech, could feel her body react to it. “My love. Let me.” 

Cassandra lay tense, incredulous. Josephine slowly shifted so that she was kneeling between Cassandra’s legs. She placed her hands on Cassandra’s knees, gently urging her to further part her legs. “My love, my beautiful Cassandra,” Josephine murmured, “let me in?” She ducked her head and and placed soft kisses along the tops of Cassandra’s thighs. Her hair trailed across Cassandra’s heated skin like gossamer. “You are so beautiful, oh, my love, _Cassandra_ , you thrill me,” Josephine said, her voice low, in between kisses. “My love, you are a _wonder_. Will you let me in?”

With a shuddering exhalation, Cassandra allowed her legs to relax, to fall open under Josephine’s gentle hands. She was acutely self-conscious; she had never done anything like this in her life, never been this exposed. She turned her head to the side, staring at the flowers on the pillow beside her.

Josephine’s fingers traced slowly up her inner thighs. Cassandra felt another kiss on her mound, felt Josephine’s lips and nose pressing into her. Her heartbeat felt like a galloping horse in her chest. Josephine’s lips slowly, slowly moved down, tasting, exquisitely gentle. Cassandra screwed her eyes shut. She felt Josephine’s fingers reach the lips of her sex, lightly stroking, then delicately drawing her open. “Oh, my love,” Josephine said, her breath stirring Cassandra, making her twitch responsively, “my love, you are _so beautiful_.” Then Josephine kissed her, _there_ , and Cassandra’s heart nearly stopped.

She had read about this, of course. Most of the books she enjoyed were not very graphic about sex acts, but the few that _were_ graphic were… provoking. 

No description in a book, no matter how graphic, could have prepared Cassandra. Josephine’s mouth moved over her sex, touching, tasting, and Cassandra was caught, helpless in wave after wave of passion, pleasure building upon pleasure. She could feel the silk of Josephine’s hair, the press of her hands where she clutched Cassandra’s thighs. Josephine was making soft moaning noises, her body rocking between Cassandra’s legs. It was impossible for Cassandra to separate one sensation from another, Josephine’s mouth playing at the peak of her sex, sliding down over her lips to press inside, back up to to suck gently at the sensitive bud at her apex, everything building, building, building, intimate and loving and perfect. Cassandra felt her body gather itself, her energy focusing on the desperate pulse between her legs, on Josephine, on her obvious pleasure in Cassandra. She braced herself….

She held on, braced, on the very cusp of climax, rocking her hips, glorying in pleasure, in desire. And, somehow, at some point, she was no longer _there_ , on the edge. Josephine’s mouth, her fingers, felt wonderful, still. But somehow, things had gone backward. Cassandra closed her eyes again, chasing the edge, the pleasure. Focusing on the softness of Josephine’s hair, the press of her fingers, the way her clever tongue traced along her sex, Cassandra felt it build again… only to fall away again. Cassandra made a frustrated noise, shifting her hips. Josephine hummed, and the vibration against her sex made Cassandra arch once more into Josephine’s mouth, seeking that extraordinary pleasure, the edge of her release.

When her climax eluded her once more, Cassandra felt an irrational frustration grip her. She pushed herself up on her elbows. Josephine lifted her head to look inquiringly at Cassandra. “It isn’t working,” Cassandra said.

“My love… do you not like this? We can do something else, we can do anything that — ”

“No, I — ugh!” Cassandra pushed herself up the bed, away from Josephine, irritated and embarrassed. She curled her legs together and, absurdly, crossed her arms over her breasts, suddenly self-conscious about her nudity.

Josephine, looking hurt and bewildered, did not move from where she knelt. “Cassandra, please — please, I… I’m sorry, I should not have pushed you to… to do anything you do not want. Please. We can — ” Josephine reached out her hand toward Cassandra.

Cassandra pulled violently away from Josephine’s outstretched hand, turned her head away, refusing to even look at Josephine. She felt humiliated, worthless, furious with herself. Josephine was endlessly beautiful, sensual, skilled at touching Cassandra in ways that thrilled her and awakened deep and overwhelming desire, yet Cassandra _still_ could not achieve release. She was broken, inadequate, frigid. 

“My love, please.” Josephine’s voice quavered. “We will find the way together. We will… please, Cassandra, please _look_ at me….”

“It isn’t _working_ ,” Cassandra ground out. She was shaking her head, denying. “I can’t do this. I can’t _do_ this,” she snarled, rising from the bed and stalking into the sitting room.

Cassandra paced restlessly for a moment, shivering in the cool air. Profoundly uncomfortable at being naked, she found her satchel and tugged her nightshirt out, pulling it on forcefully. She snatched the shawl from the divan in the corner of the room, wrapped it around her shoulders, and resumed pacing.

She thought she had never felt so humiliated in her life. She had failed, _utterly_. Josephine had been so perfect, so incredibly loving and generous, had given Cassandra so much pleasure, and Cassandra had still failed her.

Absolutely disgusted with herself, she sat on the settee, staring into the dying embers of the fire. She was tempted to find her clothing and leave. Josephine deserved better, deserved a lover who could… could respond properly, who could do justice to Josephine’s beauty and sensuality. Cassandra could leave, could leave the Inquisition and flee Thomasz’s agents, and never return, never face this profound failure.

She sighed, lowering her head into her hands, realizing how ridiculous such thoughts were before they even fully formed in her mind.

A quiet noise came from the bedroom. Cassandra stilled, listening — muffled gasps. Then a soft sniffle. With dawning horror, Cassandra realized Josephine was weeping, was weeping alone in the next room. Because of Cassandra, because Cassandra had lost her temper and stormed out, and she had hurt Josephine, _again_.

She clenched her hands into fists, tugging at her hair, but her rage at herself rapidly dissolved into an intense need to comfort Josephine. She rose and walked back into the bedroom.

Josephine was curled into a ball, lying on her side, her back to the door. Her shoulders shook. She was surrounded, still, by strewn flowers on the bed. Cassandra felt remorse grip her heart. “Josephine?” she said softly, uncertain. The shaking stopped, but Josephine did not move. “Josephine, I — I am sorry. I — oh, Maker, forgive me,” she said brokenly. She climbed carefully onto the bed. Removing the shawl from her shoulders, she draped it over Josephine’s naked form. When Josephine did not flinch away from her touch, Cassandra gave in to her need to hold, to comfort. She gathered Josephine into her arms, and settled so that she was sitting with Josephine cradled in her arms, between her legs, wrapped in the shawl. 

Josephine tucked her head into Cassandra’s neck, not looking at her. “I am sorry, Cassandra,” Josephine said, voice shaking and weak. “I am so sorry, I should not have — ”

“Hush,” Cassandra said. She kissed the top of Josephine’s head, rubbed her hands through the shawl over Josephine’s shoulders and back. “You did nothing wrong. The fault is mine alone.” Josephine mutely shook her head. Cassandra, overcome with contrition and tenderness, kissed every part of Josephine she could reach without loosening her grip, her head, the back of her neck, her soft shoulder. Cassandra felt hot tears slip down her neck, cooling quickly. Rocking Josephine gently, she pressed kiss after kiss to Josephine’s hair, her forehead, the tip of one ear. She wanted nothing more than to soothe and reassure Josephine, to take away this hurt she had caused.

After a time, Josephine’s breathing steadied, her tears stopped trickling down Cassandra’s neck. She turned her face up into Cassandra’s neck, nuzzling affectionately, then tipped her head back to receive Cassandra’s kiss. Cassandra brought one hand to tenderly cup Josephine’s chin, rubbing her thumb over her cheek, kissing her beautiful lips again and again and again. She felt blessed to receive Josephine’s affection, her trust, so soon after Cassandra’s hurtful outburst. Every kiss was a promise. _I will do better_. _I will be kinder_. _I love you_. _I cherish you_. Cassandra did not trust her words, but she could let her actions speak for her.

Josephine shivered in her arms. Cassandra rubbed over her back with both hands, then pulled Josephine up the bed, toward the headboard, and urged her to lay down, to stretch her legs under the covers. Cassandra laid herself out next to Josephine, twining their legs together under the covers, then pulled the covers up and over them, wrapping her arms around Josephine. Slowly, warmth spread between them. Josephine’s body relaxed, becoming pliant in Cassandra’s arms, her head resting on Cassandra’s breast. Cassandra kept placing sweet, soft kisses on Josephine’s forehead.

She must have fallen asleep, for she woke to find Josephine warm and slumbering in her arms, the shawl having fallen away from her body, her legs twined with Cassandra’s. The sky was still very black outside the window, the candles had gone out, and the embers in the fireplace barely glowed, but the light of the full moon illuminated the room. Cassandra allowed herself to gaze at Josephine’s face for long moments, taking quiet joy in her beauty, in the relaxed expression of her features. She slowly leaned forward and kissed Josephine’s forehead, her heart swelling with love.

Josephine stirred, her limbs sliding against Cassandra’s. She nuzzled Cassandra’s breast, through the fabric of the nightshirt Cassandra still wore, then titled her face up to kiss Cassandra’s lips. Eyes half-open, a sleepy smile on her lips, she hummed contentedly before kissing Cassandra again. Her hand slid from Cassandra’s waist to her hip, which was bare where the nightshirt had ridden up. Cassandra’s breath hitched; she came completely awake very quickly.

Josephine settled back, still in Cassandra’s arms, looking up at her. “Cassandra,” she said, her voice husky, “I want… I want to please you.” Her eyes were very wide.

Cassandra’s arms tightened around Josephine. “You _do_ please me,” she growled.

Josephine burrowed her face into Cassandra’s neck. Slightly muffled, she whispered “I don’t think I do.”

Cassandra made an outraged noise, and tried to pry Josephine away from her neck so she could look at her, but Josephine would not be moved. Resigned, Cassandra settled for folding her arms around Josephine and holding her close. “Josephine, everything you do, everything you _are_ pleases me,” Cassandra said to the top of her head. “You make me happier than I knew I could be. You are — you are wonderful. And patient. And lovely. And — and wonderful.” Cassandra huffed, frustrated at herself for not finding the right words. “I am not good with talking, or with words,” she went on. “And it seems I am not good… not good at… at _this_. At… intimacy. At pleasure. And you are so… you are so… you are perfect.” Cassandra’s voice caught in her throat. She swallowed thickly, then pressed on. “Your every touch is like a flame set to dry wood. You — you _thrill_ me, you overwhelm me. But I am not… I… it has been so long since I… I do not know if….” Cassandra became aware that she was clasping Josephine very tightly, and loosened her grip with some effort. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “You are perfect,” she said. “The fault is with me. I wish I could — ” Cassandra found she could not finish the thought out loud, the words choking her.

She felt Josephine lift her head, felt a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth. “My love,” Josephine said, her voice warm, “you are everything I want.” Another soft kiss. “There is no fault. There is no fault,” she repeated firmly. “Our situation has forced us to come together all at once, to… to become intimate, tonight, out of necessity. And tonight… we must try. But we have many, many nights ahead of us.” Josephine kissed her lips, lingering. Cassandra opened her eyes, gazing at her. Josephine went on, “We will have many nights, where we will discover intimacy, and pleasure, over and over again. We do not need to discover everything tonight. Tonight… all we need is one moment. And then we will have so many more nights, my love, so many more.” Josephine pushed herself up to kiss Cassandra properly.

Cassandra kissed back, holding Josephine tightly, putting all her love and tenderness and joy into her kiss. She settled them down into the bed, lying so that she and Josephine faced one another. She brought up a hand to caress Josephine’s cheek. “I love you,” she whispered hoarsely. “I do not deserve you.”

“Such nonsense,” Josephine chided, smiling. She turned her head to kiss Cassandra’s fingers. “I love you. And I want you.”

Cassandra closed her eyes, felt love flooding through her, filling her, lifting her. She smiled, opened her eyes, tangled her legs with Josephine’s, put her arms around her and pulled her close. “Then you shall have me,” she said, and kissed her.

They kissed for a long time, slowly, unhurried. Josephine slid her hand lazily up Cassandra’s side, then back down to her hip. Desire stirred low in Cassandra’s belly, and her hips rolled against Josephine’s. 

Josephine’s hand moved up again, tugging at Cassandra’s nightshirt. Josephine made a small noise of frustration against Cassandra’s lips. Cassandra pulled back with a low laugh, shucked off the nightshirt and tossed it away, then settled back into Josephine’s arms, kissing her, relishing the glory of being skin-to-skin the entire lengths of their bodies.

Their kisses deepened, tongues sliding together. Desire glowed like embers in Cassandra’s chest, rising, flowing like water and burning like fire. Cassandra’s hand wandered up and down Josephine’s back, savouring the heat of her skin, the extravagant swell of her hips and backside, the knots of her spine.

Then Josephine hooked one leg over Cassandra’s hip, opening herself, pulling Cassandra in close, sweeping her tongue through Cassandra’s mouth in the same instant. Suddenly, the low burn of Cassandra’s desire crested and flared into a wildfire. Her hips rocked urgently and, _Maker_ , Cassandra could feel the _heat_ emanating from Josephine’s centre, from between her legs. She could not suppress a deep groan. Passion tore through her, obliterating all other thoughts. Her hand swept from Josephine’s back, pressing up between their bodies, stroking and caressing Josephine’s breasts, plucking at the hard buds of her nipples. Josephine arched, high breathy noises escaping her lips.

With wild abandon, Cassandra slipped her hand down, stroking over Josephine’s supple abdomen, down to brush her fingers lightly above the mound of Josephine’s sex. “Ah!” cried Josephine, “oh, oh, please, _please_ , my love, oh, please,” followed by a string of Antivan words. Cassandra stroked her fingers through the hair at the join between Josephine’s legs, a faint spark of nervousness persisting despite her overwhelming fervour. 

Josephine hitched her leg even higher on Cassandra’s hips, opening herself further, canting her hips into Cassandra’s fingers. The last lingering trace of shyness left Cassandra, leaving only love, only desire. Her fingers traced lower, gently, softly, exploring. She felt the slick folds of Josephine’s sex, felt her quiver responsively at her touch, felt her own sex pulse in sympathetic pleasure.

Josephine was panting, her body contorting as she clung to Cassandra. Cassandra, enchanted, enamoured, stared in wonder at Josephine’s face, her closed eyes and passionate expression. As carefully as she could manage, Cassandra let her fingers stroke over the hardened peak at the apex of Josephine’s sex, caressing, watching Josephine’s reactions. Josephine said Cassandra’s name, moaning, and again; her hand clutched at Cassandra’s back. Cassandra allowed her fingers to move faster, firmer, sliding over Josephine’s sex, over the firm knot at her apex, feeling as though she could climax herself, untouched, from the exquisite pleasure of touching Josephine.

Josephine rocked her hips into Cassandra’s hand, clutching Cassandra’s shoulders for leverage. Without stopping her movement, Josephine opened her eyes and looked at Cassandra, breathlessly begging, “ _Please_ , my love, please, ah, please,” pushing herself up against Cassandra’s hand so that her fingers slipped into the cleft between her lips. Incredulous, overwhelmed by the intimacy of it, Cassandra gently pressed one finger inside, feeling it engulfed in slick heat. Josephine threw her head back, keening softly as Cassandra moved her hand, rhythmically pulling out and sliding back into Josephine’s centre.

Swaying with her own urgent passion, Cassandra slid in a second finger alongside the first. She stared at Josephine, at her head thrown back, lips parted, her face limned with moonlight. Josephine was so beautiful in her passion, in the pleasure that Cassandra was bringing her; it was a staggeringly gorgeous sight. Cassandra pressed the heel of her hand into Josephine’s apex, feeling her palm slide slickly over the tight bud there. Curling her fingers into an intimate caress, she moved her hand, striving to bring Josephine over the edge of her pleasure.

The leg hooked over Cassandra’s hip abruptly shifted. Josephine’s entire body convulsed, and she let out a long guttural moan. Cassandra stilled her hand, keeping it pressed to Josephine’s sex, triumphing in the thick wet pulsing against her fingers. She kissed Josephine’s beautiful face, tasting the salt of her sweat, again and again. Josephine trembled with the aftershocks of her release, while Cassandra whispered to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how beloved, how precious and wanted and needed.

When Josephine’s body stilled, Cassandra carefully extricated her hand. Dizzy with pleasure, she brought her fingers to her lips, tasting. Josephine, eyes open now, gave a low moan at the sight, then leaned forward to kiss Cassandra’s mouth. Cassandra felt a shiver of delight, knowing that Josephine could taste herself on her lips.

Josephine reached up to hold Cassandra’s face with both hands. Her thumbs traced patterns on Cassandra’s cheeks. “My love,” Josephine said. “Oh, my very dear. My Cassandra.” She leaned in and kissed Cassandra again, her lips slow and sensual.

They kissed for long minutes, lost in untroubled contentment, breathing and heartbeats gradually slowing. Cassandra settled onto her back, pulled Josephine against herself, and drew the covers up around them.

Cassandra’s last thought before she fell asleep was that she had never in her life felt more powerful than when bringing Josephine to the peak of her pleasure.


	19. New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before.

Cassandra awoke to the pink light of dawn coming in the window. Josephine lay beside her on her back, one arm thrown above her head and the other hand curled beneath her chin, hair a wild tangle about her face, lips slightly parted, snoring very faintly. Cassandra felt such an outpouring of love and tenderness that her heart quivered in her chest. She smiled helplessly. She could not remember ever being as happy as she was at that moment. Not wanting to rush this moment, she forced herself to stay perfectly still, to resist reaching out to touch, to kiss. She let her eyes rove over Josephine’s face, her lovely profile, the freckles dusted cross her nose and cheeks, the precious beauty marks that were hers alone. She gazed at the torque on the wrist above Josephine’s head, its runestone shimmering faintly in the morning light, and at the gold ring adorning her wedding finger, tucked under her chin. Slowly, with excruciating care, Cassandra brought her own left hand up from the covers, to look at her own matching ring.

It was still, Cassandra thought, beyond belief. That she should be married, that she should be _happily_ married, happily and joyfully married — to a _woman_ — and that her partner should be happy and joyful to be joined to _her_ … it was all too wonderful. If she had read it in one of her novels, she would have dismissed it as a ludicrous and unbelievable plot (though she would have read it anyway, having a ridiculous weakness for ludicrous and unbelievable plots).

Cassandra carefully tucked her hand back under the covers and resumed gazing at Josephine. Soon, she would rise and get the fires going so that Josephine would be comfortable, and perhaps make an attempt to gather all the various articles of clothing that had been thrown hither and yon over the course of the previous night. To say nothing of the flower petals, which were no doubt _everywhere_ at this point. Not that Cassandra was unhappy; despite the setbacks and moments of difficulty, last night had been wonderful beyond words. To think that she would have many more nights in Josephine’s arms, in Josephine’s bed, was exhilarating.

Watching Josephine sleep, Cassandra must have dozed off herself, for when she opened her eyes she found Josephine already awake, watching her with a serene expression. Their eyes met for long moments, just looking at one another. Then Josephine moved forward, sliding their limbs together, and kissed Cassandra, sweet and gentle. Cassandra inhaled Josephine’s warm, sleepy scent, wrapped her arms around Josephine and pulled her close, delighting in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Cassandra simply wished to hold Josephine close while they lay in bed for a while longer, but Josephine, it seemed, had other plans. Not content to lay still in Cassandra’s arms, she began slowly kissing every part of Cassandra she could reach — her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone. At the same time, she moved her body against Cassandra’s in a way that was making it increasingly difficult for Cassandra to remain still.

Cassandra made a noise that was part hum, part growl, pressing her nose into the wild mass of Josephine’s hair. She felt rather than saw Josephine’s smile against her neck. Felt Josephine’s gentle kisses begin to acquire the barest edge of teeth, scraping lightly across the sensitive skin. Felt Josephine’s hand, resting across Cassandra’s waist, begin to stir, fingers furling and unfurling over Cassandra’s skin, then moving to a new spot before gently furling and unfurling again. It was all very slow, deliberate. Josephine’s breathing remained deep and even, her eyes half-lidded, her smile serene.

Josephine slowly slid her body on top of Cassandra’s, shimmying up to kiss Cassandra’s lips. Cassandra’s breathing shook out of rhythm. She could feel the hard peaks of Josephine’s nipples drag up her body. She rocked her hips, reaching for more stimulation, clutching at Josephine’s back. But Josephine kept her body relaxed, loose, moving sensually but excruciatingly slowly, her hands resting lightly on the sides of Cassandra’s neck, kissing Cassandra gently and deliberately, her lips tracing lightly over Cassandra’s.

Cassandra’s arms tightened around Josephine, pulling her closer, trying to deepen their kiss. She rolled her hips up urgently. But Josephine was relentless. Her hands on either side of Cassandra’s neck were an effective brace against Cassandra craning her neck. Perfectly undaunted by Cassandra’s contortions, Josephine continued kissing her, light, unhurried brushes of lips, her eyes still half-lidded and mellow. Her weight pressed into Cassandra, her body moving only with her slow breaths.

Cassandra’s noise was now more growl than hum, as she found her striving was expertly thwarted at every turn. Desire gripped her; she sought the passionate kisses, the surging movements, the thrilling connection of the previous night. Josephine’s gentle kisses and patient manoeuvres were _maddening_. Cassandra struggled, attempting to make their lovemaking more active, more forceful. She did not wish to actually _overpower_ Josephine, not physically, but she was confused: how were they to _accomplish_ anything, if not by exertion? Last night had required active, even aggressive methods, and it had been wonderfully enjoyable. Yet now Josephine was passive, was almost quiescent, though she was obviously still interested in lovemaking. It was baffling.

If Josephine had been a sparring partner or a wrestling opponent, Cassandra would have made short work of her, would have dominated her in a moment. But as it was, Cassandra was helpless, trapped under Josephine’s beautiful body, conquered by her soft lips and gentle touches. Conquered by her love, by her affection, by her tenderness. It occurred to Cassandra that, perhaps, these were things to which she should yield. Let herself be guided. Perhaps it was not a bad thing to allow gentleness and patience to win the day.

For possibly the first time in her life, Cassandra surrendered. 

Cassandra’s hands, which had been ardently clutching at Josephine’s back, relaxed, opened, touched without expectation or urgency. She allowed her body to soften, to settle, to find a rhythm that was restful, thoughtful, profound. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and focused every thought on _Josephine_ , on her touch, her body, her kisses, her sweet breath on Cassandra’s face, the almost indecently decadent softness of her hair as it pooled and swept over Cassandra’s skin.

They moved together in exquisite languor. Slowly, as though she had all the time in the world, Josephine placed delicate kisses on Cassandra’s lips, her cheekbones, her eyebrows and eyelids, each scar on her face, her jaw, her chin, her lips again, unhurried, endlessly gentle, like sipping precious nectar from a rare and treasured blossom. When she was done, her hands wandered from Cassandra’s neck up into her hair, carding through the short locks. Cassandra felt her fingers trace the line of the braid she wore, pulling out the few pins that held it in place; the pins were set aside; Josephine’s soft fingers pulled the braid down onto Cassandra’s shoulder, gently teased the strands apart, combing through them, pulling the tress to its full, unplaited length, which reached partway down her thigh, as far as Josephine could extend her hand without changing her position. She stroked the lock from crown to end several times, slowly. Cassandra’s eyes remained closed, her breathing even and deep, feeling, feeling, feeling every motion of Josephine’s fingers through hair that no one other than Cassandra herself had ever touched.

Josephine shifted her weight very slightly, her knees sliding to either side of Cassandra’s legs, so that she was no longer fully lying atop Cassandra’s torso. Josephine’s hands came again to either side of Cassandra’s neck, not bracing now, but stroking, touching, slowly and carefully, as though Josephine were trying to memorize every inch of Cassandra’s skin by touch alone. Her soft fingers traced over Cassandra’s neck, her throat, the hard ridges of her collarbones; then down her arms, smoothing over Cassandra’s biceps, the tender skin at her inner elbow, her forearms and wrists; Josephine’s fingers caressed the backs of Cassandra’s hands, touching each scar, then her palms and fingers, cataloguing her callouses from shield and sword; Josephine moved her hands to Cassandra’s ribs, fitting her fingers into each slot; then over the ridged muscles of Cassandra’s abdomen, the jagged scar from an unlucky strike of a Giant’s tusk; as Josephine shifted back onto her knees, her fingers traced over Cassandra’s hipbones, then down her thighs, following the line of corded muscle running from hip to knee. Everywhere she touched, every caress of her fingers, every press of her palm, felt to Cassandra as though embers were kindled under her skin, as though bright sparks were emanating from her. Perhaps this was so; her eyes remained closed, and she did not see, but only felt, felt exquisitely and deeply.

Josephine shifted again, so that her knees were between Cassandra’s legs. She leaned back and stroked her fingers lightly along the sensitive tops of Cassandra’s feet; smoothed her palm slowly, gently along her shins, touching with careful fingers the many notches and dents in the bone; Josephine’s fingers brushed along the inner edges of Cassandra’s knees, and then, slowly, slowly, slowly, began tracing intricate patters on her inner thighs, her fingers deft and soft, very gradually making their way up toward the join between Cassandra’s legs.

Through this slow and tender exploration of her body, Cassandra had remained relaxed, had surrendered everything to Josephine. Her eyes remained closed, her body still. But the energy between herself and Josephine was gradually rising, like dropping small stones into a cup of water until the liquid overflows the rim. When Josephine gently pushed Cassandra’s legs apart, she did not resist, but she could _feel_ her body reacting. She allowed her arousal to flow over her, letting go of any urgency or anxiety, surrendering again to Josephine, to her touch, to her tenderness and love.

Josephine’s fingers looped and caressed, sliding up and down the sensitive skin of Cassandra’s thighs. Cassandra’s breath was still even, but was becoming deeper, moving her chest with each inhalation. Josephine let her hands drift up Cassandra’s thighs, up to the furrows where her leg joined her torso; she rested her palms on Cassandra’s hipbones, her thumbs rubbing smoothly along the creases.

When Josephine pushed Cassandra’s legs further apart, Cassandra’s breath wobbled. Her hands fisted in the sheet, and she pressed her head back into the pillow, still not opening her eyes. Then Josephine’s fingers moved to stroke delicately at the outer edge of Cassandra’s sex, and she could not entirely suppress a gasp, could not keep her body from quivering. But she did not fight it; she succumbed to it, to her arousal, to the pace and movement of Josephine’s hands. She felt an uncomplicated joy and delight take hold of her, a perfect trust. She was filled and lifted by an uprising of love and desire that swelled so large in her mind, in her heart, that she was amazed at her own capacity, at the depth and breadth of her feeling.

Cassandra kept her eyes closed, focused on _feeling_ , feeling every movement of Josephine’s lovely hands. Josephine’s fingers stroked slowly up and down Cassandra’s outer lips, lighting bright flares of pleasure that pulsed out through Cassandra’s limbs. Josephine’s fingers drifted higher, lightly rubbing beside Cassandra’s apex, then just above it. 

Behind her closed eyelids, Cassandra saw flashes of white light; her breathing was now heavy and ragged. Desire throbbed heavily in her sex — she was sure it would be visibly pulsing, so strong was her passion — and fluttered down each leg, up into her arms, gathering in heated points in each breast. Yet she kept her body as unmoving as possible, surrendered still to Josephine’s touch.

Josephine’s fingers very gently parted Cassandra’s lips, her thumbs playing at the slick inner folds now exposed. Cassandra arched, helpless with her pleasure. Then she felt Josephine’s hair glide over her thighs; she only had a few seconds to process the sensation before Josephine’s lips closed over the apex of her sex, gently drawing the bud from its cover. With soft suction and strokes of her tongue, Josephine drove Cassandra to ecstasy. She spread her legs farther apart, silently begging, submitting to bliss and love, giving everything, inviting Josephine to take everything, _everything_.

When Josephine’s finger pressed at the cleft of Cassandra’s sex, it felt like the most natural, perfect thing in the world. Unhesitating, trusting perfectly, Cassandra lifted her hips into Josephine’s hand, just enough to offer permission, encouragement. Cassandra was so wet, so full of flowing desire, that Josephine’s finger entered her without resistance. Cassandra felt a second finger slip inside. Helplessly, her body undulated, clenching around Josephine’s fingers, pushing into her hot, wet mouth and clever tongue.

Cassandra allowed the waves of white-hot pleasure ripple over and through her, allowed herself to be carried by it. She felt so open, so in love, so beloved; so vulnerable and trusting, yet safe, cared-for, cherished. It was extraordinary, unlike anything she had ever felt, approaching and perhaps surpassing the religious ecstasy of her faith (though her mind flinched away from the blasphemous thought, even at the height of ecstasy… and yet).

Riding the waves of her pleasure, Cassandra felt a third finger inside of her, felt herself stretched, filled, as though she were a brimming vessel. When Josephine’s fingers began to curl, to stroke at a transcendently sensitive spot deep inside, with the same rhythm as the suction at her apex, the vessel overflowed, gathering everything Cassandra was and launching her into flight.

Her release lasted a long, long time, or so it seemed to Cassandra. When she came to herself again, her body shook, limbs quaking. She heard a voice roughly crying out, inarticulate, and realized the sound was coming from her own throat. Eventually, her breathing evened out somewhat, and the throes of her climax calmed. She opened her eyes and lifted her head to gaze down at Josephine. 

Josephine returned her gaze, a pleased, sultry smile on her lips, rubbing her cheek along Cassandra’s thigh. Cassandra reached down to her, beckoning; Josephine complied, crawling up and into Cassandra’s outstretched arms, allowing herself to be pulled close and kissed passionately. Cassandra could taste herself on Josephine’s mouth, tart and musky and sweet. She thought that she would very much like to taste Josephine directly, to give her pleasure with her mouth; the thought was enough to make Cassandra unconsciously tighten her grip on Josephine, kiss her more deeply.

As they kissed, Cassandra felt blissfully content, safe and secure in the knowledge of love. Idly, she thought of her attitude of mere days ago. How was it possible that she had believed that intimacy like this could be achieved without love? She could not now imagine lovemaking without closeness, intimacy without feeling. The idea that this could be done as a duty, as an obligation, seemed both hopelessly naïve and starkly horrifying. Cassandra thought that the beautiful, remarkable woman in her arms deserved nothing less than adoration, that to give her sweet pleasure without loving her would be a crime. She also thought that it would be nothing short of appalling to be touched intimately, herself, without love. It was a blessing beyond imagining to have this love, Cassandra thought, cherishing Josephine’s weight in her arms, savouring her tender kisses. To have love, and intimacy, and pleasure, with this exquisite creature… Cassandra could not imagine any higher blessing.

Leliana, it occurred to Cassandra, would be unspeakably smug. But, in fairness, she had been right. She had been right from the start. Cassandra could not find it in herself to be upset that Leliana had been right about _this_.

Josephine gave a mighty shiver, and Cassandra felt gooseflesh rise all over Josephine’s skin. Breaking the kiss, she pulled the covers up and tucked them around Josephine, settled her back against the pillows. She swung her legs off the edge of the bed, plucking her nightshirt from the floor and pulling it on, a slight barrier against the chill air. She awkwardly pulled the length of her hair up and through the opening at her neck, letting it fall down at her back; she would rebraid it soon, but she wanted to get the fires going first. 

Cassandra added coal to the bedroom fireplace and employed the small bellow to get the fire burning brightly. She then tended to the sitting room fireplace. When it was also fuelled and lit, she returned to the bedroom. Josephine was sitting up in the bed. She had retrieved the shawl from within the bed covers and draped it over her shoulders; it framed her bare torso quite enticingly, Cassandra thought. 

Josephine held a hairbrush in one hand. She smiled shyly at Cassandra as she entered the room. “My love,” she said softly, the first words either of them had spoken that entire morning. “Would you let me put your hair up?”

Cassandra hesitated. No one had ever done her braid for her, or tended to her hair at all, not since she was a small child. But then, no one had ever offered. Bemused, she nodded, then climbed on the bed where Josephine guided her to settle before Josephine, tucking her bare legs under the covers. Josephine’s fingers gently gathered the long lock of hair, sweeping it down Cassandra’s back and onto Josephine’s lap as she knelt behind Cassandra. Josephine began by brushing out the short hair that was still in early-morning disarray about her head. It felt quite nice, Cassandra decided. The brush was soft, and Josephine’s hand, running over her scalp after each pass of the brush, even softer. She relaxed, her shoulders falling, closing her eyes and listening to the soft crackle of the fire, to the low melody Josephine was humming under her breath. 

Josephine’s fingers stroked down the length of Cassandra’s long tress, followed by a slow pass of the brush. This pattern — fingers, brush, fingers, brush — went on for a long time. It was utterly peaceful, loving and private and perfect. Then the brush was set aside, and Josephine carefully braided the lock into its usual three-strand plait. Retrieving Cassandra’s pins from the headboard, Josephine adeptly pinned the braid into place. She leaned forward and kissed the back of Cassandra’s neck, her hands on Cassandra’s shoulders. Then pressing a kiss to Cassandra’s ear, she murmured, “Would you brush my hair for me, my love?”

They rearranged themselves on the bed so that Josephine sat cradled by Cassandra’s legs. It had been many years since Cassandra’s hair had been longer than its current short crop; she hoped she did not do something wrong to Josephine’s hair. She settled on the same pattern Josephine had used — fingers carding gently through Josephine’s thick, glossy hair, then a slow pull of the brush, fingers, brush, fingers, brush. Josephine had stopped her melodic humming, but every so often a contented sigh would escape her. Cassandra fell into a kind of meditation; the rhythmic motion of her hands, the smooth silk of Josephine’s hair through her fingers, the crackling fire, Josephine’s soft noises of contentment, combined to lull Cassandra’s mind into simplicity and quietude. 

Eventually Cassandra emerged from her reverie, set the brush aside, and pulled Josephine back against her chest, wrapping her arms around her. Josephine turned her head so that it was tucked under Cassandra’s chin. They remained in this position, relaxed, replete, for long minutes.

Cassandra sighed. “I suppose that, at some point, we shall have to actually venture outside these rooms,” she remarked.

“I believe that Leliana has made it known that both of us are unavailable for this entire day,” Josephine replied, serenely. “It is, after all, the day after our wedding, and I think that we are entirely within reason to remain cloistered here. Besides, as soon as either of us steps out that door, we will be accosted either by well-wishers, oglers, or colleagues needing things from us. I much prefer to remain here, with you, where I am only too happy to give you whatever you need from me.” Josephine turned her face up to kiss and nuzzle the underside of Cassandra’s chin.

Cassandra, smiling, ducked her head to kiss Josephine’s lips. “Surely we will need to eat at some point today.”

“Hm. The kitchen mistress seems to have taken a liking to you,” Josephine said slyly. “I am sure she would have a meal or two sent up to us, if we were to get a message to her….” She pushed herself up from Cassandra’s arms, then stood. Taking her robe from the chair against the wall, she let the shawl slide off her body and donned the robe (all the while being watched keenly by Cassandra, who noted with a thrill every sliver of skin that was exposed during this procedure).

Josephine passed into the sitting room. Cassandra heard the outer door latch open, muted conversation, then the door latching shut once more. Josephine reappeared in the door to the bedroom. Approaching the bed, she smiled at Cassandra. “I asked the door guard to speak to the first runner who passes. I ordered a tray of food and drink, to be brought in an hour or so, and left outside the door until one of us collects it.” Her smile widened; she undid the tie of her robe, and let is slip off her shoulders, so that she stood wholly bare before Cassandra, bathed in the golden light of the morning. “I trust we will be able to occupy ourselves until then.”

Cassandra, her heart full of joyful adoration, her body lit with desire, smiled, reached out, and pulled Josephine onto the bed, tumbling her and catching her, rolling them both so that Josephine, laughing in delight, was on her back. Pushed up on her arms, Cassandra smiled down at Josephine, basking in her laughter, her happiness, her splendid beauty.

Josephine gave a slow blink. She reached up a hand to touch Cassandra’s face, stroking her cheekbone with her thumb. “You are so lovely,” Josephine said, her expression becoming tender. “Your smile is like sunlight.” Cassandra blushed and tried to hide it by turning her face into Josephine’s hand and pressing kisses to the palm. Josephine, however, was not fooled, and she moved her hand to trace over Cassandra’s pink cheeks with her soft fingers. “You are beautiful,” Josephine said, half teasing and half adoring. “You are so beautiful, my love,” she said again, laughing at Cassandra, touching her face even as Cassandra tried to duck behind her hand. “Stop that!” Josephine cupped her hand under Cassandra’s chin; Cassandra, blushing but smiling, allowed Josephine to lift her face. “There. I want to look at you. It is my right, as your wife, that I may look at you whenever I please.”

“I don’t recall seeing that clause on the contract,” Cassandra grumbled, embarrassed but pleased by Josephine’s compliments, by her loving gaze.

“Then you did not read it carefully enough,” Josephine replied, smiling, bringing up her other hand and holding Cassandra’s face between them. “Section Four, Paragraph Two: ‘Either party shall be entitled, without prejudice and in perpetuity, to unlimited visual access to the other party.’ It was right there in the fine print.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Cassandra mock-growled.

“Yes, it wa-mmph!” Josephine’s line of argument was cut off by Cassandra leaning down and kissing her. The kiss was made rather difficult because Josephine was still laughing, but Cassandra persevered. Josephine’s mirth soon dissolved, changing to low moaning into Cassandra’s mouth. Josephine’s hands slid down Cassandra’s body, pulling up her nightshirt until her hands made contact with bare skin. Her hands stroked over Cassandra’s hips, sliding up to caress her waist, then moving up over her ribs to cup the undersides of her breasts. Cassandra gasped against Josephine’s lips, arching her back. Josephine’s fingers slipped up, rubbing over Cassandra’s nipples, sending hot sparks of pleasure through her.

Cassandra pushed herself up, removing her nightshirt and tossing it away. Then, instead of leaning back down, she sat back, straddling Josephine, and just _looked_ at her. Josephine’s beauty was dazzling. She lay reclining on the pillow, flower petals scattered around her, glowing in the morning sunlight, her lovely face serene and smiling up at Cassandra, her expression amorous as her eyes drifted up and down Cassandra’s body.

Cassandra had never really given much thought to other women’s bodies, had certainly never looked at them with any erotic intentions. But looking now at Josephine, the glory of her beauty took away Cassandra’s breath. Even now, it seemed incredible that she should be allowed to look at Josephine like this, to touch her, kiss her, make love to her. Reverently, Cassandra placed her hands on Josephine’s waist, relishing the feel of her skin, warm and silky. She wonderingly stroked Josephine’s soft abdomen, caressing her hips and waist, marvelling at the wide curves of her body. Cassandra stifled a groan, closed her eyes, briefly overcome with a flare of desire. Opening her eyes again, she allowed herself to gaze at Josephine’s breasts, the skin freckled and peppered with beauty marks and framed with silvery lines, her large dark areolas and hardened nipples. Her hands roved up Josephine’s soft arms, traced the lines of her collarbones, then — slowly, gently — stroked down to cup her breasts and gently roll their stiff peaks between her fingers. Josephine’s back arched; her hands on Cassandra’s knees tightened. Cassandra felt light-headed, delirious with pleasure, with joy at this beautiful woman beneath her.

Overcome, Cassandra leaned down to press her mouth to Josephine’s breasts. Josephine’s hands came up to cradle the back of Cassandra’s head. When Cassandra’s lips closed around a nipple, the hands in her hair tightened. Closing her eyes, Cassandra swept her tongue across the stiff nub, delighting in the way Josephine’s body curled up to meet hers, in the desperate pull of her hands, in the ardent, breathy noises she made as Cassandra pleasured her.

Suddenly, Cassandra wanted _more_ , she wanted _everything_ , wanted _all_ of Josephine. Pulling her mouth away from Josephine’s breasts, she began kissing her way down her body. Josephine was intoxicating; Cassandra was almost dizzy, overwhelmed by the extraordinary pleasure of kissing her body. She pressed kisses into each precious rib; she buried her face in the dip of Josephine’s waist, lips and the tips of her teeth sliding over the sensitive skin there; she kissed the soft folds of Josephine’s abdomen; she sucked on the delicate point of Josephine’s hipbone, swirling her tongue over it, then tracing down the crevasse leading to the join between her legs. Lost in pleasure, intoxicated with desire, Cassandra pressed her nose into the hair on Josephine’s mound, inhaling the heady scent of her, kissing the spot just above her apex. Josephine’s hands shook, still cradling Cassandra’s head. 

Cassandra was still straddling her legs; she shifted, gently urging Josephine to part her legs, then knelt between them. Cassandra stared. Josephine was looking at her, her skin glowing and flushed, lips parted. She was so phenomenally beautiful that she seemed unreal, like some romantic heroine in a novel. Cassandra’s eyes drifted down her body. Stroking Josephine’s thighs, relishing the velvety softness of her skin, Cassandra leaned down and kissed the inside of Josephine’s thigh. She was so delirious with desire that any worries she might have had — _what do I do, how do I please her, I have never done anything like this in my life_ — evaporated before they could even surface in her mind. Her heart filled with love, wanting nothing more than to be close, to be intimate, to give Josephine everything, Cassandra did not hesitate.

Cassandra had no experience, no sophistication — she simply did what felt good. She placed kisses all over Josephine’s sex; she slid her tongue through her folds, tasting the nectar of Josephine’s arousal; she lavished fluttering kisses on and around the lovely pink bud at Josephine’s apex; she pressed her mouth to Josephine’s cleft, slipped her tongue inside to curl and stroke, more intimate than Cassandra could ever have imagined.

Josephine’s body rocked, her fingers threading through Cassandra’s hair. With every exhale, she cried out her pleasure, high and breathy. When Cassandra pressed her tongue, firm and vigorous, to the swollen peak of Josephine’s apex, Josephine’s body arched, her fingers clutched at Cassandra’s head, her vocalizing became almost a song. Cassandra sustained this particular action, wanting to bring Josephine to a transcendent climax. She could feel the build of Josephine’s bliss, in the swelling of her sex, in her surging wetness on Cassandra’s tongue, in the tension in her thighs under Cassandra’s hands. When Josephine’s pleasure crested, she wailed in ecstasy, her hips bucking, her thighs shaking, her sex pulsing heavily against Cassandra’s mouth. 

Cassandra closed her eyes, kept her mouth still against Josephine’s sex, feeling the intense throbbing on her lips and tongue, tasting the flow of Josephine’s pleasure. She felt at once triumphant and vulnerable, proud of giving Josephine this much pleasure, and so very much in love that she thought her heart might burst.

When Josephine’s tremors stopped, Cassandra pulled her face away. Josephine’s sex was so slick from her release that a gleaming thread of her nectar clung to Cassandra’s lips. Unthinking, Cassandra moved to capture it with her tongue; when her mouth brushed against Josephine’s swollen sex, Josephine gasped and arched. Intrigued, Cassandra gently passed her tongue over Josephine’s sex again; again, Josephine’s body lurched, she gave a high cry, and her sex quivered under Cassandra’s lips. Dazed, Cassandra continued her ministrations, encouraged by Josephine’s inarticulate cries, by her hands clutching at the back of Cassandra’s head. When Cassandra’s lips closed around her apex, her tongue darting out to caress the knot there, Josephine’s noises became almost frenzied. Cassandra kept moving her tongue, focused only on Josephine, on her pleasure, on the unspeakable loveliness of her cries, on the responsiveness of her body.

Josephine’s hands fisted in Cassandra’s hair, pulling, which was painful, but Cassandra did not care. Josephine convulsed, her body arching, her swollen sex throbbing in Cassandra’s mouth; the noises she made were close to sobbing. She pushed Cassandra’s head away, apparently over-sensitive, but immediately tugged her up to lie on top of her. Josephine’s face was sheened in sweat, her expression dazed and half-lidded; she pulled Cassandra close, kissing her, sweeping her tongue over Cassandra’s lips, tasting herself there. Then she lay back against the pillow, breathing heavily. Cassandra tucked herself under Josephine’s arm, her head resting on Josephine’s breast, a small smile on her face, extraordinarily happy.

In the end, the tray of food sat for at least an hour outside the door before they collected it. But when they did, Josephine ended up eating nearly all of it, claiming that she had expended far more energy than Cassandra that morning. Cassandra, still feeling inordinately proud of herself, was not even remotely inclined to argue. She even let Josephine have all of the sugared almonds.


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of the rest of their lives.

When Cassandra, clad in everyday clothing, left Josephine’s chambers, it was late afternoon. As tempting as it was to remain with Josephine, together and happy, they agreed that they should both, at the very least, put on decent clothes and leave the rooms. Neither woman was inclined to sloth, no matter how pleasant it was to be alone together.

Besides, Cassandra reflected with a small smile, it was not as though their separation would be lengthy. They were to meet at the Herald’s Rest to take an evening meal among their friends — “We agreed to an evening in the pub, before everything came to a head yesterday,” Josephine had reminded her — and then Cassandra would once more spend the night in Josephine’s chambers, in her bed, in her arms. 

Although this was certainly what Cassandra would have wanted to do, regardless, it was also a necessity. The seal on their marriage required frequent lovemaking in the early stages. Though they could probably make do with once every two or three days… Cassandra found she was not inclined to risk it.

This also meant that Cassandra was effectively barred from going out on missions for the next month or so. Unless one of the rare missions requiring Josephine’s personal attendance came up, Cassandra would not be able to venture far from Skyhold without imperilling the seal, and leaving them potentially vulnerable to Thomasz’s efforts.

Still, she could not be unhappy about this, she thought as she climbed the stairs to her quarters. She would not be idle: the Chargers were frequently in residence at Skyhold, and there were always new recruits to train, or recently-arrived veterans to spar with and learn from. This time would also be an opportunity to delve further into her research on the Seekers.

And… there was, of course, Josephine. Being able to spend so much time with her was a luxury, her love and affection were blessings unlooked-for. Cassandra found herself pondering, yet again, what her life might look like now. It seemed highly unlikely that they would dissolve their union once the threat posed by Thomasz was neutralized. Which meant… a life together. A partnership, a true marriage.

It was a drastic change. One week, Cassandra thought, one week, and her life had gone from one bound entirely by faith and institutional duty, to one still lifted by faith and guided by duty, but now accommodating of a relationship to another person. This was unlike her duty to other individuals — to Daniel, or to Divine Justinia, or to any one of her friends and colleagues — no, this was a compelling and binding partnership. She would no longer be able to lead her life with only consideration of herself and her own duty.

At the moment, this seemed not a terrible burden, seemed even to be a positive thing. Cassandra was, after all, _looking forward_ to spending the next month being close to Josephine. Even the idea of, someday, having a proper wedding in Antiva City, of settling her life in such a way that she and Josephine could be happy and fulfilled in their own pursuits but _together_ …. It would not be easy. It would never have been easy, for two women with their own passions and undertakings and responsibilities, to merge their lives into a working partnership. But Cassandra thought that neither her life, nor even Josephine’s, would have ever been simple, been easy. Not in this world as it was.

Cassandra stowed her Seeker livery, considering what to do until it was time for the evening meal. Since she had again missed her morning devotions, she decided upon the chantry first, and then perhaps she could run a few exercise drills in the yard with enough time to wash before eating.

In the chantry, on her knees before the altar, Cassandra found it difficult to focus her mind. Her thoughts kept drifting back over the previous day and night in _extremely_ inappropriate ways, intrusive thoughts that pulled a physical response out of her body, which was even more distracting than the thoughts themselves. Stubbornly, Cassandra kept at it. Eventually, she was able to achieve focus, to contemplate the mysteries of her faith, to empty her mind of everything but her devotion.

When she finished, she took up her practice sword and shield. She would exercise until the light was gone. Running through her drills at one of the practice dummies, Cassandra’s mind began to wander again. She wondered how Josephine would be able to cope with Cassandra’s vocation, and the frequent violence it entailed. She almost certainly was not under any illusions on that front — she worked for the Inquisition, after all, she knew what they did — but knowing this in theory, about a colleague, might be very different from being joined, in life, in love, to a woman whose work necessarily involved bloodshed.

And that was only for as long as the Inquisition lasted. Cassandra did not know what the organization would become after Corypheus was, Maker willing, defeated. When that happened — what would Cassandra become? There was no guarantee that she would have a place in the Chantry, under a new Divine. At least, with her marriage, she was no longer an appropriate candidate for becoming the next Divine herself — this was, if anything, a relief. But with the Seekers still missing, her position in that order was also in question. A Right Hand without a Divine, a Seeker without an order… what would she become?

For that matter, Cassandra was not entirely certain of what Josephine might do, after the Inquisition. She had worked as a diplomat and ambassador before, and Cassandra supposed that she may well return to that line or work outside the Inquisition. But she was also the Montilyet scion. It was obvious, even to Cassandra who was so often oblivious to the subtleties of personal connections, that Josephine loved her family deeply, and that she took her responsibilities as heir very seriously. It was likely, then, that Josephine would want to take up her role as head of the Montilyet household. That she would wish to reside in Antiva City, in her family estate, or at least some other important city from which she could effectively manage her family’s business.

A thought occurred to Cassandra, startling her so badly that she botched a swing, bouncing off the dummy, sending her sword careening out of her suddenly-nerveless hand. As the Montilyet heir, Josephine would… would be expected to have her own heirs. That was the point of marriage, after all. It was, in fact, the entire reasoning behind those thrice-damned Progenitor laws that were behind this entire matter. The production of suitable progeny. Cassandra recalled, from their earliest conversations on the matter, that Antivan tradition and law supported fostering and adoption. But still… _children_. What in the world would Cassandra do with _children?_

Breathing heavily from her exercise, Cassandra growled at herself in disgust as she collected her sword. Mercifully, it appeared that no one had been around to witness her brief breakdown in discipline. She went to a rain barrel to drink some water and cool down — it was already well into dusk, and she would be expected at the tavern shortly.

Cassandra reflected that, truly, it had only been one week, one short week between this marriage being proposed, and it being carried out. They had managed to overcome a few of the very obvious difficulties related to the — the _practical_ matters of the sealing. And Cassandra was very, very happy with Josephine so far. But, if she was being honest, they had only just scratched the surface of the relationship they were to have. She did not know what Josephine was planning to do with the rest of her life. She did not know what her plans were with regard to children, to heirs, or even to names! Cassandra did not know whether it was common in Antiva for spouses to have two different last names. Though she had no great attachment to her own family name (and, in fact, felt not a small amount of animosity toward it, given that this sealed marriage rigmarole had been instigated _because_ she shared a last name with a worthless status-seeker) Cassandra could not entirely wrap her mind around the idea of becoming _Cassandra Montilyet_.

(Though… now that the thought had entered her mind… it _was_ rather romantic. The idea that she was joined so closely to her beloved that they shared one name, one family, one fealty.)

All of this would have to be discussed. Cassandra did not relish the thought of having awkward conversations about the future. But — really, it would not be so bad. Not with Josephine. And… Cassandra found that thinking about the future — not just a future of carrying out her duty, but a future with a woman she had, against all expectations, fallen in love with, who loved her in return — was in fact a pleasant enough way to occupy her thoughts.

This would all need to be discussed, but not tonight. Tonight, they would visit with their friends in the tavern. Cassandra thought that, with Josephine there, she would not be subjected to the worst of the teasing she might otherwise expect. And later… 

Cassandra splashed water over her suddenly-burning face, then made for her quarters to wash before supper.

***

Satchel with a change of clothing in hand, Cassandra was walking across the yard to the tavern when Leliana materialized out of the shadows and matched her stride. “I spoke with Vivienne early this morning,” Leliana began. “We were relieved to observe that the ink on the sealing contract maintained its gold.”

Cassandra flushed hotly, irritated. “I see. How frequently do you intend to review the contract and give me feedback on — on my intimate relations?”

Leliana merely smiled at Cassandra’s irritation. “Don’t be grumpy, Cassandra. It was necessary. We needed to make sure that things had gone according to plan last night. If they had not, if the seal failed, then we would have had to act very quickly to circumvent Lord Thomasz’s plans. We had a number of contingency plans in place for that possibility, but none of them were as expedient as the sealed marriage, and they all presented a number of liabilities to the Inquisition. Vivienne and I were both extremely gratified that the seal held.” Then her expression turned serious. “Truly, Cassandra, we all understood that this cannot have been easy. Even two people deeply in love, in an established relationship, might not be able to fully consummate their relationship under that much pressure, with such a strict deadline. The seal will be easier to maintain, going forward. The contract will remain in a locked box under Vivienne’s care. We all trust you and Josephine to… to ensure that the contract is inspected if the terms of the seal are possibly being neglected. You know what is at stake.”

“Yes,” Cassandra murmured. “But… I do not think it will be difficult to maintain the seal, now.” Catching Leliana’s glance, she blushed again and made an annoyed sound. “For pity’s sake, Leliana, do not give me that look. If I am to endure suggestive looks and comments from my friends, perhaps I _will_ leave the Inquisition.”

“No,” Leliana replied, amused. “You would not. Besides, Josephine is here.” Cassandra would not meet Leliana’s eye, and the spymaster gave a low laugh. “I know you, Cassandra. And I know Josephine. It is obvious to me that you two care very much for one another, that this marriage — and the seal — are strong and good. I saw Josephine earlier, and she is as deliriously happy a new bride as I have ever met. And already making grand plans for the wedding in Antiva City.”

“Maker preserve me,” Cassandra groaned.

“Don’t pretend you won’t enjoy the romance of a full wedding ceremony, Cassandra,” Leliana teased. “It will more than make up for whatever indignities you must endure, being the centre of attention of a large and boisterous Antivan family. And it will make Josephine very happy.”

Cassandra allowed herself a small smile. “I know. I know it will.”

“Here is where I must leave you,” Leliana said as they approached the tavern door. “Have a pleasant evening. Try not to bite too many heads off.”

Cassandra grunted dubiously in reply, and then Leliana was gone. Cassandra pushed open the door and made her way inside. The Herald’s Rest was moderately busy that evening, with Maryden the bard singing, barely heard above the general din. The Chargers were in residence, taking up a portion of the seats on the tavern’s main floor. Bull caught Cassandra’s eye and raised his glass to her, but she merely nodded to him and passed them by. In a quieter corner, Kaera, Varric, Blackwall and Cullen were at a table. Cullen, spotting her, waved and indicated that she should join them.

“I hear congratulations are in order!” Cullen said cheerfully, pouring her a glass of ale from the pitcher at the table.

“I suppose so,” Cassandra said uneasily.

“Come, Cassandra, at least _pretend_ that it’s a happy occasion,” Cullen replied, raising his glass.

“It _is_ a happy occasion,” Cassandra muttered. “A happy, _private_ occasion.”

Varric raised his glass with an ironic grin. “Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of everyone else’s truth, concealer of her own.” Cassandra glared at him as he drank.

“If you insist, then we certainly won’t impose on you,” Cullen said, inclining his head significantly toward Varric. “Let us instead toast to thwarting the Mortalitasi, without any loss of life or threat to the Inquisition.”

“Hear, hear,” said Kaera, raising her glass. “If only we had such elegant solutions to all the Inquisition’s disputes.”

This led to Cassandra inquiring after the situation in Wycombe, and a discussion of the strategy that Cullen was proposing. Bored, Varric and Blackwall discussed the availability at Skyhold of different types of ale they enjoyed, finding the one being served tonight lacking. It was all quite comfortable, companionable.

Josephine arrived, sliding onto the bench next to Cassandra, apologizing for her tardiness. “I’m afraid the preparations for the arrival of a delegation from the Tevinter Imperium needed quite a great deal of my attention,” she said, sounding a little breathless. Josephine slid her hand inconspicuously behind Cassandra, to rest on the small of her back. “Especially given our strained relations with Nevarra at the moment, we cannot afford to — ach, but we are not here to discuss my work difficulties. I hope you do not mind, but I took the liberty of ordering some food for the table. I find I am simply ravenous!”

Blackwall snorted, and for an mortified instant Cassandra thought he might make some remark, but apparently Varric delivered a sharp kick to his shin under the table. “Thanks, Ruffles,” Varric said to Josephine. “I’m a bit peckish myself. Say, we were just discussing the possibility of getting some decent porter brought to Skyhold, the kind they brew in the Free Marches. Think it’s a possibility?”

“Well, it would require strengthening our ties with traders who use shipping routes through the Waking Sea….”

The conversation was mostly comfortable from then on. Josephine did not remove her hand from Cassandra’s back until the food arrived. Once the platters were removed, her hand snaked its way around Cassandra’s waist once more. Josephine was, by then, close to finishing her second pint of ale; she leaned into Cassandra, her arm reaching all the way around Cassandra’s waist. As gestures of affection went, Cassandra supposed, it wasn’t… too overt. Likely no one even noticed, aside perhaps from their companions at the table. Cassandra found she did not mind, did not at all mind the gesture, nor its implications of a slight possessiveness, of intimacy. She relaxed, and very slightly leaned back into Josephine.

Kaera cleared her throat. “I’m going to turn in,” she said, rising. “We’re off to the Western Approach tomorrow at first light — another dragon. It will be good to have something active to do.” She glanced at Cassandra. “I hope you don’t mind that you won’t be joining the party. We may be gone for some time, you see….”

“Of course,” Cassandra replied. “I am very sure that your chosen party will be up to whatever challenge the beast poses, regardless of my absence. And, as you say, I am not free to leave Skyhold for the time being,” she said, unable to keep from smiling.

Kaera nodded, abruptly, and left. Cullen quickly stood, his brows knitting. "I — I should speak with the Inquisitor. Congratulations again, to you both," he said distractedly, then quickly strode in the same direction Kaera had gone.

Blackwall also rose, saying, “I’m going with the Inquisitor tomorrow — first time I’ll have encountered a dragon and done anything other than run like mad. Ought to be interesting. But it means an early start for all of us, so I think I’ll head out as well.” Nodding to the table, Blackwell sauntered off.

“Gosh, I just hate feeling like a third wheel,” Varric remarked cheerfully.

“Nonsense, Varric, do not feel you need to leave on our account,” Josephine said.

“Ah, that’s sweet of you, Ruffles. Still, there’s a few things I wanted to finish tonight. You two ought to stay and finish the pitcher — this South Orlesian ale’s a little bland, but that’s no reason to let it go to waste! See you around.” Varric pushed himself up from his chair, and was gone.

“Well,” Josephine said, smiling, “Varric is certainly correct about not letting this go to waste.” She poured the last of the pitcher into their glasses, then sat back, leaning lightly into Cassandra, her hand sneaking over to clasp Cassandra’s (safely out of sight, beneath the table). They sipped ale in comfortable silence for several minutes, listening to Maryden’s music, watching the people of the Inquisition mingle from their quiet corner. Then, Josephine said, quietly, “We are going to have to tread carefully around Kaera.”

Cassandra raised her head, shaking off the pleasant buzz of the ale. “What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

Josephine leaned back so that she could look into Cassandra’s face. Josephine’s expression was serious. “Cassandra… I believe — no, I _know_ that she has not entirely gotten over her feelings for you.” 

Cassandra huffed in disbelief. “Her _feelings?_ There was a brief flirtation on her part, yes, but that ended very quickly. The Inquisitor has too much on her mind to — to nurture tender feelings toward _anyone_ , least of all _me_.”

Josephine remained quite solemn. “It’s true, my love. I’m afraid that I didn’t realize — I think even _she_ did not realize how true it was until… you came to… to have warm feelings for me, in the context of the seal.” Josephine blushed and glanced down at their clasped hands. “For all that she is compassionate and kind, Kaera is a very practical woman, and she takes her duty to the Inquisition very seriously. When it became evident that I was the only reasonable option for a sealed marriage, to ward off a claim to you under Progenitor law, Kaera seemed very able to set aside her personal feelings for the good of the Inquisition. Leliana and I were, in fact, quite confident that she had put her affection for you entirely behind her.” Josephine began rubbing small circles on the back of Cassandra’s hand. “But when you began courting me… when we began to share affection… when it was evident that you were not treating the seal as merely _duty_ … as I said, I do not believe she herself knew how much it would affect her.” Josephine looked up at Cassandra, her expression grave. “I believe she is quite heartbroken.”

Cassandra was troubled. “Then why would she agree to be my witness?”

Josephine smiled sadly. “Because she is a good person. A good friend.”

“Oh.” Cassandra looked away. She was torn between distress on Kaera’s behalf, and anger at herself for not having realized. The Inquisitor’s distraction recently, her occasional odd demeanour regarding the sealed marriage and Cassandra’s role in it — she should have known. She counted Kaera as a colleague and friend, and to have been oblivious to something like this, which apparently affected her so much, was deeply regrettable. To say nothing of the fact that broken hearts practically littered the landscape in her novels! How could she have missed this?

“Cassandra,” Josephine said, her voice compassionate. “You are blaming yourself, but you should not, truly. Before the sealed marriage was proposed, Leliana and I were both quite convinced that Kaera would be more or less at ease with our match. I am sure even Kaera herself would have said so at the time. She gave every indication of being dispassionate about it even as we — as you and I began to discover how we would make it work.” Josephine sighed. “You could not have known. No one could have known, I don’t think. And when it became obvious that — that you and I would become truly close, that we had come to a place of affection… and love… I do not think Kaera herself knew how it would affect her, until then. And by then, you had other things on your mind. No, my love, do not blame yourself.” Josephine squeezed Cassandra’s hand. “But, as I said, we will have to tread carefully around her.”

Cassandra was suddenly mortified. “I should not have sat here!” she said, emotion colouring her voice. “We should not have sat with her, today of all days —”

“No, we must not avoid her,” Josephine said gently. “Nor hide what we are. To do so would be condescending, and unfair to her. To be sure, we will not be overtly affectionate in front of her. But I do not believe that you would wish to be overly demonstrative in front of _anyone_.” Cassandra blushed at this, and Josephine smiled. “In this, certainly your desire for privacy will serve our purposes quite well. And, in time, Kaera will be well. It is only the newness and suddenness of our marriage, and the unexpectedness of your feelings. But she is resilient, and not given to despair. She will overcome this.”

Cassandra, feeling wretched, was not certain. “I am very sorry for her,” she said softly.

“Yes; it is not an easy thing. I understand how she must feel — I cannot now imagine not having your love. I would be heartbroken as well,” Josephine said, glancing away.

“You need never worry about that,” Cassandra said heatedly.

Josephine gave her a lovely smile. “My love,” she murmured, caressing Cassandra’s hand. “Come, let us finish here. I find the noise begins to disagree with me,” she added wryly, glancing at the table where the Chargers were becoming increasingly boisterous. Bull — unlike the Inquisitor and Blackwall — seemed to think that the night before leaving on a dragon hunt was the ideal time for merrymaking.

The drained their glasses and rose, Cassandra taking up her satchel and offering her arm to Josephine. As they passed out of the tavern and through the yard, they received a number of greetings and congratulations. Cassandra found that, once again, she did not mind having it known that she and Josephine were married. The acknowledgements they received seemed to be sincere, and kindly meant. Cassandra merely nodded in acknowledgement to each speaker, with Josephine offering brief thanks and greetings of her own.

Soon they were climbing the stairs to Josephine’s door. “I’m afraid that we must return to a semblance of routine tomorrow,” Josephine said regretfully. “I have much to do to prepare for the Tevinter delegation, and that is just the most pressing of the tasks I must accomplish over the next several days.” She sighed. “I’m afraid I will have to be out the door with the rising of the sun.”

“Well,” Cassandra said. “As pleasant as this morning was… I must also return to my duties. Being barred from missions outside Skyhold means I can focus on my research, as well as helping with training. But… I would still like to bring you tea, in the mornings. And to take the evening meal with you, whenever you can escape the formal suppers. Would that be agreeable to you?” Cassandra opened the door to Josephine’s chambers, holding it open for Josephine to pass through.

The sitting room was warm, lit by the fire; servants had also consolidated the bouquets of flowers, leaving only a couple of arrangements of the hardier blooms. Cassandra dropped her satchel and closed the door.

Josephine was smiling at her. “Oh, yes! That would be wonderful. And not only because you keep spoiling me with Antiva Oro tea,” she said mischievously. Still smiling widely, she moved into Cassandra’s open arms, lifting her face for Cassandra’s kiss. Cassandra felt her heart swell with love. She wondered if she would ever become accustomed to the feeling of holding Josephine in her arms, of kissing her beautiful mouth. Josephine pulled back slightly, glancing up at Cassandra. “And I hope, my love, that you will always stay here, with me, at night, whenever you are at Skyhold.”

Cassandra smiled, happiness bubbling up in her like springwater. “Of course.” She pressed another kiss to Josephine’s lips, then another, deeper, tipping Josephine back, holding her close. She kissed Josephine’s smooth cheek, then her ear. Cassandra whispered, “I believe you promised me many, many nights, to discover intimacy, to discover pleasure, again and again…” She kissed Josephine’s ear again. “I think I would like to begin at once….”

Cassandra swept Josephine into her arms, lifting her. Josephine gave a startled yelp, then laughed in delight. She kissed Cassandra’s cheek, arms going around her neck. Cassandra carried her beloved wife into the bedroom — _their_ bedroom — heart brimming with joy and delight, filled with hope and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And that's a wrap for this part of Cassandra  & Josephine's story! I plan to write more about them -- there's the wedding in Antiva City, of course, and we certainly haven't heard the last of Thomasz's machinations.
> 
> I had enough comments about Kaera that I started thinking about her story in all this. I had originally planned to just sort of hand-wave her ending: "Then she just got over it, and was happy for them!" But, ahahaha, I think that might have upset some people. And the more I thought about it, the more I agreed that her fate deserved better, deserved more. So I will be writing about Inquisitor Kaera at some point. And she will have a happy ending, because that's how I roll. :D
> 
> Thank you so much to every reader, everyone who left kudos, everyone who left comments, here or on Tumblr. This little fandom is so wonderful and supportive, it defies belief. Writing this has been so much fun, but sharing it here has been absolutely amazing. You're all wonderful, you are, you are. <3


End file.
